IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


I 


1.25 


■^  122   i2.2 
ju  u^    Ik 

IS   1^    12.0 


■tub 


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Hiotographic 

Sciences 

(jQrporalion 


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3)  wnT  MAM  f  nm 

witntt,N.Y.  i4sn 

(71*)a79.4S03 


;\ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibllographique* 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 


D 
0 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I   Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagie 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I   Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReiiA  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  aJoutAes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  po!  ibie,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  it6  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires: 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 


L'Institut  a  microfilm6  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mtthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


I     I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag6es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  peliiculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxet 
Pages  d6colortes,  tacheties  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachies 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualit^  inigale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplAmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

r~-\  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

Fy]  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

r~p\  Showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I     I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I — I  Only  edition  available/ 


Thi 
toi 


The 
poi 
ofl 

filR 


Ori| 
beg 
the 
sioi 
oth 
firs 
sioi 
or  I 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuiliet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  AtA  filmAes  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


The 
sha 
TIN 
whi 

Mai 
diffi 
enti 
beg 
righ 
reqi 
met 


Cede 
10X 

icum 

snt  e 

stfil 

me  au  tau 
14X 

xde 

rtdu 

ction 
18X 

lndl< 

iu*  c 

i-des 

sous 
22X 

26X 

aox 

V 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

'•^^^s^r' 


The  copy  filmed  her*  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Mills  IMMnorial  Library 
MdMatttr  Univsnity 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grice  A  la 
gtnArositA  de: 

IMiHsMtmorialLRirsry 
McMatttr  Univsnity 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  In  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Las  Images  suivantes  ont  4tA  reproduites  avec  ie 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettetA  de  l'exemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avec  ies  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fllmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimie  sont  fiimte  en  commenpant 
par  Ie  premier  plat  et  en  termlnant  solt  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'illustration,  solt  par  Ie  second 
plat,  salon  Ie  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exempleires 
originaux  sont  fllmfo  en  commen9ant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'iilustratlon  et  en  termlnant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  dee  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  ie 
cas:  Ie  symbols  -*-  signlfie  "A  SUIVRE",  Ie 
symbols  y  signlfie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  Included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tabieeux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmfo  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  Ie  document  ost  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  ciichA,  ii  est  film*  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
lilustrent  la  m^thode. 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Mil 


PD 


vt 


ADVICE  TO  YOUNG  MEN, 


AND  (incidentally)  TO 


YOUNG  WOMEN, 


IN  TU£ 


MIDDLE  AND  HIGHER  RANKS  OF  LIFE. 


4 


J 


IN  A  SERIES  OF  LETTEHS^   ADDRESSED  TO 


A  YOUTH,  A  BACHBLOll,  A  LOVER,  A  HUSBAND, 
A  CITIZEN  OH  A  SUBJECT. 


■%: 

m 


BY  WIIiLIAM  COBBETT. 


*-,^.  w^- 


«  / 


J 


» 


PUBLIBHED  BY  JOHN  DOYLE,  12  LIBERTY  STREET, 


Ster»ott/ped  try  Jamea  Conner* 
1833. 


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INTRODUCTION. 


.»!!''.. 


1.  It  is  the  duty,  and  ought  to  be  the  pleasure,  of 
age  and  experience  to  warn  and  instruct  youth  and 
to  come  to  the  aid  of  inexperience.  When  sailors 
have  discovered  rocks  or  breakers,  and  have  had  the 
good  luck  to  escape  with  life  from  amidst  them,  they, 
unless  they  be  pirates  or  barbarians  as  well  as  sai- 
lors, point  out  the  spots  for  the  placing  of  buoys  and 
of  lights,  in  order  that  others  may  not  be  exposed  to 
the  danger  which  they  have  so  narrowly  escaped^ 
What  man  of  common  humanity,  having,  by  good 
luck,  missed  being  engulfed  in  a  quagmire  or  a  quick- 
sand, will  withhold  from  his  neighbours  a  knowledge 
of  the  peril  without  which  the  dangerous  spots  are 
not  to  be  approached'? 

2.  The  great  effect  which  correct  opinions  and 
sound  principles,  imbibed  in  early  life,  together  with 
the  good  conduct,  at  that  a^e,  which  must  naturally 
result  from  such  opinions  and  principles ;  the  great 
effect' which  these  have  on  the  whole  course  of  our 
lives  is,  and  must  be,  well  known  to  every  man  of 
common  observation.    How  many  of  us,  arrived  at 


1- 

i 


-i 


*  ■^■1 


INTRODUCTION. 


only  40  yoar»,  have  to  repent ;  nay,  which  of  ua  has 
not  to  repent,  or  has  not  had  to  repent,  that  he  did 
not,  at  an  earlier  age,  possess  a  great  stock  of  know- 
ledge of  that  kind  which  has  an  immediate  effect 
on  our  personal  ease  and  happiness ;  that  kind  of 
knowledge,  upon  which  the  cheerfulness  and  the 
harmony  of  our  homes  depend! 

3.  It  is  to  communicate  a  stock  of  this  sort  of 
knowledge,  in  particular,  that  this  work  is  intended; 
knowledge,  indeed,  relative  to  education,  to  many 
sciences,  to  trade,  agriculture,  horticulture,  law, 
government,  and  religion ;  knowledge  relating,  in- 
cidentally, to  all  these ;  but,  the  main  object  is  to 
furnish  that  sort  of  knowledge  to  the  young  which 
but  few  men  acquire  until  they  be  old,  when  it  comes 
too  late  to  be  useful.  ^ 

4.  To  communicate  to  others  the  knowledge  that 
I  possess  has  always  been  my  taste  and  my  delight ; 
and  few,  who  know  any-thing  of  my  progress 
through  life,  will  be  disposed  to  question  my  fitness 
for  the  task.  Talk  of  rocks  and  breakers  and  quag- 
mires and  quick-sands,  who  has  ever  escaped  from 
amidst  so  many  as  I  have !  Thrown  (by  my  own 
will,  indeed)  on  the  wide  world  at  a  very  early  age, 
not  more  than  eleven  or  twelve  years,  without  mo- 
ney to  support,  without  friends  to  advise,  and  with- 
out book-learning  to  assist  me ;  passing  a  few  years 
dependent  solely  on  my  own  labour  for  my  subsist- 
ence ;  then  becoming  a  common  soldier  and  leading 
a  military  life,  chiefly  in  foreign  parts,  for  eight 


years 

prom 

rnarr}! 

to  acq 

passin 

author 

portan 

1793 1( 

try,  a 

Englis 

in  the  c 

in  such 

8q)prob? 

ing  to  I 

suffering 

of  impr] 

nishmen 

breaking 

lie  on,  ai 

bles  and 

every  w 

eleven  w 

taining  n 

tion ;  wri 

nine  year 

the  Engli 

Cottage,  I 

work  on 

of  Sermo 

the  Prote 


} 


INTRODUCTION. 


« 


years ;  quitting  that  life  after  really,  for  me,  high 
promotion,  and  with,  for  me,  a  large  sum  of  money ; 
marrying  at  an  early  age,  going  at  once  to  France 
to  acquire  the  French  language,  thence  to  America ; 
passing  eight  years  there,  becoming  bookseller  and 
author,  and  taking  a  prominent  part  in  all  the  im- 
portant discussions  of  the  interesting  period  from 
1793  to  1799,  during  which  there  was,  in  that  coun- 
try, a  continued  struggle  carried  on  between  the 
English  and  the  French  parties ;  conducting  myself, 
in  the  ever-active  part  which  I  took  in  that  struggle, 
in  such  a  way  as  to  call  forth  marks  of  unequivocal 
approbation  from  the  government  at  home  ;  return- 
ing to  England  in  1800,  resuming  my  labours  here, 
suffering,  during  these  twenty-nine  years,  two  years 
of  imprisonment,  heavy  fines,  three  years  self-ba- 
nishment to  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  a  total 
breaking  of  fortune,  so  as  to  be  left  without  a  b^d  to 
lie  on,  and,  during  these  twenty-nine  years  of  trou- 
bles and  of  punishments,  writing  and  publishing, 
every  week  of  my  life,  whether  in  exile  or  not, 
eleven  weeks  only  excepted,  a  periodical  paper,  con- 
taining more  or  less  of  matter  worthy  of  public  atten- 
tion ;  writing  and  publishing,  during  the  eame  twenty- 
nine  years,  a  grammar  of  the  French  and  another  of 
the  English  language,  a  work  on  the  Economy  of  the 
Cottage,  a  work  on  Forest  Trees  and  Woodlands,  a 
work  on  Gardening,  an  account  of  America,  a  book 
of  Sermons,  a  work  on  the  Corn-plant,  a  history  of 
the  Protestant  Reformation ;  all  books  of  great  and 

1* 


>»., 


'J 

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I* 

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I 


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niTRODuonov. 


continued  sale,  and  the  kut  unquestionably  the  hook 
of  greatest  circulation  in  the  whole  world,  the  Bible 
only  excepted;  having,  during  tTtese  same  twenty^ 
ittfitf  yeart,  of  troubles  and  embarrassments  without 
number,  introduced  into  England  the  manufacture  of 
Strawplat ;  also  several  valuable  trees ;  having  in- 
troduced, during  the  same  twenty-nine  years,  the 
cultivation  of  the  Corn-plant  so  manifestly  valuable 
as  a  source  of  food ;  having,  during  the  same  period, 
always  (whether  in  exile  or  not)  sustained  a  shop  of 
some  size,  in  London ;  having,  during  the  whole  of 
the  same  period,  never  employed  less,  on  an  ave- 
rage, than  ten  persons,  in  some  capacity  or  other, 
exclusive  of  printers,  bookbinders,  and  others,  con- 
nected with  papers  and  books ;  and  having,  during 
these  twenty-nine  years  of  troubles,  embarrassments, 
prisons,  fines,  and  banishments,  bred  up  a  family  of 
seven  children  to  man's  and  woman's  state. 

5.  If  such  a  man  be  not,  after  he  has  survived  and 
accomplished  all  this,  qualified  to  give  Advice  to 
Young  Men,  no  man  is  qualified  for  that  task. 
There  may  have  been  natural  geniua :  but  genius 
alone,  not  all  the  genius  in  the  world,  could,  without 
somethinff  more,  have  conducted  me  through  these 
perils.  During  these  twenty-nine  years,  I  have  had 
for  deadly  and  ever-watchful  foes,  a  government  that 
has  the  collecting  and  distributing  of  sixty  millions 
of  pounds  in  a  year,  and  also,  every  soul  who  shares 
in  that  distribution.  Until  very  lately,  I  have  had, 
for  the  far  greater  part  of  the  time,  the  whole  of  the 


mTRODucrtm. 


press  as  my  deadly  enemy.    Yet,  at  this  moment,  it 
will  not  be  pretended,  that  there  is  another  man  in  the 
kingdom,  who  has  so  many  cordial  friends.    For  as 
to  the  finenda  of  ministers  and  the  great,  the  friend- 
ship is  towards  the  power,  the  influeiice ;  it  is,  in 
fact,  towards  those  taxes,  of  which  so  many  thou- 
sands are  gaping  to  get  at  a  share.    And,  if  we 
could,  through  so  thick  a  veil,  come  at  the  naked 
fact,  we  should  find  the  subscription,  now  going  on 
in  Dublin  for  the  purpose  of  erecting  a  monument  fn 
that  city,  to  commemorate  the  good  recently  done, 
or  alleged  to  be  done,  to  Ireland,  by  the  Duke  of 
Welunoton  ;  we  should  find,  that  the  subscribers 
have  the  taxes  in  view ;  and  that,  if  the  monument 
shall  actually  be  raised,  it  ought  to  have  sdfishneM 
and  not  gratitiide,  engraven  on  its  base.    Nearly  the 
same  may  be  said  with  regard  to  all  the  praises  that 
we  hear  bestowed  on  men  in  power.    The  friend- 
ship which  is  felt  towards  me,  is  pure  and  disinter- 
ested :  it  is  not  founded  in  any  hope  that  the  parties 
can  have,  that  they  can  ever  profit  from  professing 
it:  it  is  founded  on  the  gratitude  which  they  enter- 
tain for  the  good  that  I  have  doiie  them :  and  of  this 
sort  of  friendship,  and  friendship  so  cordial,  no  man 
ever  possessed  a  larger  portion. 

6.  Now,  mere  genius  will  not  acquire  this  for  a 
man.  There  must  be  something  more  than  genius : 
there  must  be  industry :  there  must  be  perseverance : 
there  must  be,  before  the  eyes  of  the  nation,  proofs 
of  extraordinary  exertion ;  people  must  say  to  them* 


%  A 


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,1 
\  J 


I 


y} 


8 


iNtRODUCTION. 


selve»|  "  What  wise  conduct  must  fhere  have  been 
"  in  the  employing  of  the  time  of  this  man !  How 
"  sober,  how  sparing  in  diet,  how  early  a  riser,  how 
"  little  expensive  he  must  have  been  !"  These  are 
the  things,  and  not  genius,  which  have  caused  my 
labours  to  be  so  incessant  and  so  successful :  and, 
though  I  do  not  affect  to  believe,  that  every  young 
wan,  who  should  read  this  work,  will  become  able 
to  perform  labours  of  equal  magnitude  and  impor- 
tance, I  do  pretend,  that  every  young  man,  who  will 
attend  to  my  advice,  will  become  able  to  perform  a 
great  deal  more  than  men  generally  do  perform, 
whatever  may  be  his  situation  in  life  j  and,  that  he 
will,  too,  perform  it  with  greater  ease  and  satisfac- 
tion, than  he  would,  without  the  advice,  be  able  to 
perform  the  smaller  portion. 
i  7.  I  have  had,  from  thousands  of  young  men,  and 
men  advanced  in  years  also,  letters  of  thanks  for  the 
great  benefit  which  they  have  derived  from  my  la- 
bours. Some  have  thanked  me  for  my  Grammars, 
some  for  my  Cottage-Economy,  others  for  the  Wood- 
lands and  the  Gardener ;  and,  in  short,  for  every  one 
of  my  works  have  I  received  letters  of  thanks  from 
numerous  persons,  of  whom  I  had  never  heard  be- 
fore. In  many  cases  I  have  been  told,  that,  if  the 
parties  had  had  my  books  to  read  some  years  before, 
the  gain  to  them,  whether  in  time  or  in  other  things, 
would  have  been  very  great.  Many,  and  a  great 
many,  have  told  me,  that,  though  long  at  school,  and 
though  their  parents  had  paid  for  their  being  taught 


INTRODUCTION. 


I 


)een 
[low 
how 
3  are 
Imy 
and, 
owng 
able 
npor- 
5  will 
>rm  a 
•form, 
lat  he 
tisfac- 
ible  to 


English  Grammar,  or  French,  they  had,  in  a  short 
time,  learned  more  from  my  books,  on  those  sub- 
jects, than  they  had  learned,  in  years,  from  their 
teachers.  How  many  gentlemen  have  thanked  me, 
in  the  strongest  terms,  for  my  Woodlands  and  Gar- 
dener, observing  (just  as  Lord  Bacon  had  observed 
in  his  time)  that  they  had  before  seen  no  books,  on 
these  subjects,  that  they  could  urtder stand.  But,  I 
know  not  of  any  thing  that  ever  gave  me  more  satis- 
faction than  I  derived  from  the  visit  of  a  gentleman 
of  fortune,  whom  I  had  never  heard  of  before,  and 
who,  about  four  years  ago,  came  to  thank  me  in 
person  for  a  complete  reformation,  which  had  been 
worked  in  his  son  by  the  reading  of  my  two  ser« 
MONS  on  drinking^  and  on  gaming, 

8.  I  have,  therefore,  done,  already,  a  great  deal  in 
this  way :  but  there  is  still  wanting,  in  a  compact 
form,  a  body  of  Advice  such  as  that  which  I  now 
propose  to  give :  and  in  the  giving  of  which  I  shall 
divide  my  matter  as  follows.  1.  Advice  addressed 
to  It  Youth  ;  2.  Advice  addressed  to  a  Bachelor  ; 
3.  Advice  addressed  to  a  Lover  ;  4.  To  a  Husband  : 
6.  To  a  Father  ;  6.  To  a  Citizen  or  Subject. 

9.  Some  persons  will  smile,  and  others  laugh  out- 
right, at  the  idea  of  "  Cobbett's  giving  advice  for 
conducting  the  affairs  of  tore."  Yes,  but  I  was 
once  young,  and  surely  I  may  say  with  the  poet,  I 
forget  which  of  them : 

*'  Though  old  I  am,  for  ladiee'  love  unfit, 
The  power  of  beauty  I  remember  yet*' 


i!     ''" 


J 


1 


10 


luVBJoimmov.' 


I  forget,  indeed,  thenamea  of  the  ladles  as  completely, 
pretty  nigh,  as  I  do  that  of  the  poets ;  but  I  remem- 
ber their  influence,  and  of  this  influence  on  the  con- 
duct and  in  the  afiairs  and  on  the  condition  of  men,  I 
have,  and  must  have,  been  a  witness  all  my  life  long. 
And,  when  we  consider  in  how  great  a  degree  the 
happiness  of  all  the  remainder  of  a  man's  life  de- 
pends, and  always  must  depend,  on  his  taste  and 
judgment  in  the  character  of  a  lover,  this  may  well 
be  considered  as  the  most  important  period  of  the 
whole  term  of  his  existence. 

10.  In  my  address  to  the  ERjsband,  I  shall,  of 
course,  introduce  advice  relative  to  the  important 
duties  of  masters  and  servants;  duties  of  great  im- 
portance, whether  considered  as  affecting  families  or 
as  affecting  the  community.  In  my  address  to  the 
Citizen  or  Subject,  I  shall  consider  all  the  recipro- 
cal duties  of  the  governors  and  the  governed,  and 
also  the  duties  which  man  owes  to  his  neighbour. 
It  would  be  tedious  to  attempt  to  lay  down  rules  for 
conduct  exclusively  applicable  to  every  distinct  call- 
ing, profession  and  condition  of  life ;  but,  under  the 
above-described  heads,  will  be  conveyed  every  spe- 
cies of  advice  of  which  I  deem  the  utility  to  be  un- 
questionable. 

11.  I  have,  thus,  fully  described  the  nature  of  my 
little  work,  and,  before  I  enter  on  the  first  Letter,  1 
venture  to  express  a  hope,  that  its  good  eff*ects  will  be 
felt  long  after  its  author  shall  have  ceased  to  exist. 


LETTER  I. 

TO  A  voirrH. 


.■J 

•■■• 


<»■- 


'.      -I      ^ 


*^ 


12.  You  are  now  arrived  at  that  age  which  the 
law  thinks  sufficient  to  make  an  oath,  taken  by  you, 
valid  in  a  court  of  law.  Let  us  suppose  from  four- 
teen to  nearly  twenty ;  and,  reserving,  for  a  future 
occasion,  my  remarks  on  your  duty  towards  pa- 
rents, let  me  here  offer  you  my  advice  as  to  the 
means  likely  to  contribute  largely  towards  making 
you  a  happy  man,  useful  to  all  about  you,  and  an 
honour  to  those  from  whom  you  sprang. 

13.  Start,  I  beseech  you,  with  a  conviction  firmly 
fixed  on  your  mind,  that  you  have  no  right  to  live 
in  this  world ;  that,  being  of  hale  body  and  sound 
mind,  you  have  no  right  to  tmy  earthly  ^yig,|ence, 
without  dmifjtf  '^t*fe"Wsome  s(;)y^  or  j^ftTjTTi^Sr 
you  have  Wnpie  fOnunH  Whefebn  to  live  clear  of 
debt ;  and,  that  even  in  that  case,  you  have  no  right 
to  "breed  children,  to  be  kept  by  others,  or  to  be  ex- 
posed to  the  chance  of  being  so  kept.  Start  with 
this  conviction  thoroughly  implanted  in  your  mind. 
To  wish  to  live  on  the  labour  of  others  is,  besides  the 
folly  of  it,  to  contemplate  a  fmavd  at  the  least,  and, 
under  certain  circumstances,  to  meditate  oppression 
I  and  robbery. 

14.  I  suppose  you  in  the  middle  rank  of  life. 
[Happiness  ought  to  be  your  great  object,  and  it  is  to 
be  found  only  in  indcjyendcnce.  Turn  your  back  on 
IWhitehall  and  on  Somerset-House  j  leave  the  Cus- 
Itoms  and  Excise  to  the  feeble  and  low-minded ;  lool^v 
[not  for  success  to  favour,  to  partiality,  to  friendship,' 

)r  to  what  is  called  interest:  write  it  on  your  heart, 


A- 


v- 


"I 


"I 

'I 

t  i 


1     .1 


V 


;f 


13 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


that  you  will  depend  solely  on  your  own  merit  and 
your  own  exertions.  Think  not,  neither,  of  any  of 
those  situations,  where  gaudy  habiliments  and  sound- 
ing titles  poorly  disguise  from  the  eyes  of  good  sense 
the  mortifications  and  the  heart-ache  of  slaves.  An- 
swer me  not  by  saying,  that  these  situations  '^  mtut 
he  filled  by  somebody  s^^  for,  if  I  were  to  admit  the 
truth  of  the  proposition,  which  I  do  not,  it  would  re- 
main for  you  to  show,  that  they  are  conducive  to 
happiness,  the  contrary  of  which  has  been  proved  to 
me  by  the  observation  of  a  now  pretty  long  life. 

15.  Indeed,  reason  tells  us,  that  it  must  be  thus : 
for  that  which  a  man  owes  to  favour  or  to  partiality, 
that  same  favour  or  partiality  is  constantly  liable  to 
take  from  him.  He  who  lives  upon  any  thing  ex- 
cept his  own  labour,  is  incessantly  surrounded  by 
rivals :  his  grand  resource  is  that  servility  in  which 
he  is  always  liable  to  be  surpassed.  He  is  in  dally 
danger  of  being  out-bidden ;  his  very  bread  depends 
upon  caprice ;  and  he  lives  in  a  state  of  uncertainty 
and  never-ceasing  fear.  His  is  not,  indeed,  the  dog's 
life,  "  hunger  and  idleness  j"  but  it  is  worse ;  for  it 
is  "  idleness  with  slavery,''*  the  latter  being  the  just 
price  of  the  former.  Slaves  frequently  are  well /erf 
and  well  clad^;  but,  slaves  dare  not  speak;  they 
dare  not  be  suspected  to  think  differently  from  their 
masters :  hate  his  acts  as  much  as  they  may ;  be  he 
tyrant,  be  he  drunkard,  be  he  fool,  or  be  he  all  three 
at  once,  they  must  be  silent,  or,  nine  times  out  of 
ten,  affect  approbation :  though  possessing  a  thou- 
sand times  his  knowledge,  they  must  feign  a  convic- 
tion of  his  superior  understanding ;  though  know- 
ing that  it  is  they,  who,  in  fact,  do  all  that  he  is  paid 
for  doing,  it  is  destruction  to  them  to  seem  as  if  they 
thorught  any  portion  of  the  service  belonged  to  them ! 
Far  from  me  be  the  thought,  that  any  youth  who 
shall  read  this  page  would  not  rather  perish  than 
submit  to  live  in  a  state  like  this !  Such  a  state  is 
fit  only  for  the  refuse  of  nature ;  the  halt,  the  half- 
blind,  the  unhappy  creatures  whom  nature  has 
marked  out  for  degradation. 


J 


•■■Ta*sj< 


J] 


r '.TO  A  VOUTH. 


13 


16.  And  how  comes  it,  then,  that  we  see  hale  and 
even  clever  youths  vi  titarily  bending  their  necks 
to  this  slavery ;  nay,  i  cssing  forward  in  eager  rival- 
ship  to  assume  the  yoke  that  ought  to  be  insupport- 
able  ?  The  cause,  and  the  only  cause,  is,  that  the 
deleterious  fashion  of  the  day  has  created  so  many 
artificial  wants,  and  has  raised  the  minds  of  young 
men  so  much  above  their  real  rank  and  state  of  life, 
that  they  look  scornfully  on  the  employment,  the 
fare,  and  the  dress  that  would  become  them ;  and,  in 
order  to  avoid  that  state  in  which  they  might  live 
free  and  happy,  they  become  showy  slaves. 

17.  The  great  source  of  independence,  the  French 
express  in  a  precept  of  three  words,  "  Vivre  de  jjew," 
which  I  have  always  very  much  admired.  "  To 
live  upon  little^-  is  the  great  security  against  slavery ; 
and  this  precept  extends  to  dress  and  other  things 
besides  food  and  drink.  When  Doctor  Johnson 
wrote  his  dictionary,  he  put  in  the  word  pensioner 
thus :  "  Pensioner — ^1  slave  ofstate?^  After  this  he 
himself  became  a  pensioner !  And,  thus,  agreeably 
to  his  own  definition,  he  lived  and  died  "  a  slave  oj 
state  /"  What  must  this  man  of  great  genius,  and 
of  great  industry  too,  have  felt  at  receiving  this  pen- 
sion !  Could  he  be  so  callous  as  not  to  feel  a  pang 
upon  seeing  his  own  name  placed  before  his  own 
degrading  definition  ?  And,  what  could  induce  him 
to-submit  to  this  ?  His  wants,  his  artificial  wants,  his 
habit  of  indulging  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table ;  his 
disregard  of  the  precept  "  Vivre  de  peu.^'*  This  was 
the  cause ;  and,  be  it  observed,  that  indulgences  of 
thigi  sort,  while  they  tend  to  make  men  poor  and 
expose  them  to  commit  mean  acts,  tend  also  to  en- 
feeble the  body,  and  more  especially  to  cloud  and 
to  weaken  the  mind. 

18.  When  this  celebrated  author  wrote  his  dic- 
tionary, he  had  not  been  debased  by  luxurious  en- 
joyments ;  the  rich  and  powerful  had  not  caressed 
him  into  a  slave ;  his  writings  then  bore  the  stamp 
of  truth  and  independence :  but,  having  been  debased 
by  luxury,  he  who  had,  while  content  with  plain 

2 


I 


1 


14 


COBBETT*S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


fare,  been  the  strenuous  advocate  of  the  rights  of  the 
people,  became  a  strenuous  advocate  for  taxatmv^ 
without  representation  ;  and,  in  a  work  under  the  title 
of  "  Taxation  no  l^yranny,^^  defended,  and  greatly 
assisted  to  produce,  that  unjust  and  bloody  war 
which  finally  severed  from  England  that  great  coun- 
try, the  United  States  of  America,  now  the  most 
powerful  and  dangerous  rival  that  this  kingdom  ever 
had.  The  statue  of  Dr.  Johnson  was  the  first  that 
was  put  into  St.  Paul's  Church  !  A  signal  warning 
to  us  not  to  look  upon  monuments  in  honour  of  the 
dead  as  a  proof  of  their  virtues ;  for  here  we  see  St. 
Paul's  Church  holding  up  to  the  veneration  of  poste- 
rity a  man  whose  own  vn.'itings,  together  with  the 
records  of  the  pension  list,  prove  him  to  have  been 
"  a  slave  of  state." 

19.  Endless  are  the  instances  of  men  of  bright 
parts  and  high  spirit  having  been,  by  degrees,  render- 
ed powerless  and  despicable,  by  their  imagiiiary 
wantF.  Seldom  has  there  been  a  man  with  a  fairer 
prospect  of  accomplishing  great  things  and  of  ac- 
quiring lasting  renown,  than  Charles  Fox :  he  had 
great  talents  of  the  most  popular  sort ;  the  times 
were  singularly  favourable  to  an  exertion  of  them 
with  success ;  a  large  part  of  the  nation  admired  him 
and  were  his  partizans ;  he  had,  as  to  the  great 
question  between  him  and  his  rival  (Pitt,)  reason  and 
justice  clearly  on  his  side ;  but  he  had  against  him 
his  squandering  and  luxurious  habits :  these  made 
him  dependent  on  the  rich  part  of  his  partizans; 
made  his  wisdom  subservient  to  opulent  folly  or  sel- 
fishness ;  deprived  his  country  of  all  the  benefit  that 
it  might  have  derived  from  his  talents ;  and,  finally, 
sent  him  to  the  grave  without  a  single  sigh  from  a 
people,  a  great  part  of  whom  would,  in  his  earlier 
years,  have  wept  at  his  death  as  at  a  national  calamity. 


20. 


Extravagance  in 


dress,  in  the  hauntinjr  of 


play-houses^  in  horses,  in  every  thing  else,  is  to  be 
avoided,  and,  in  youths  and  young  men,  extrava- 
gance in  dj-ess  particularly.  This  sort  of  extrava- 
gance, this  waste  of  money  on  the  docoTfttion  of  the 


I.J 


to  A  f  OtJtft. 


10 


body,  arises  solel  y  from  vanity,  and  from  vanity  of  the 
most  contemptible  sort.  It  arises  from  tlie  notion, 
that  all  the  people  in  the  street,  for  instance,  will  be 
looking  at  you  as  soon  as  you  walk  out ;  and  that 
they  will,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  think  the  better 
of  you  on  account  of  your  fine  dress.  Never  was 
notion  more  false.  All  the  sensible  people,  that  hap- 
pen to  see  you,  will  think  nothing  at  all  about  you : 
those  who  are  filled  with  the  same  vain  notion  as 
you  are,  will  perceive  your  attempt  to  impose  on 
them,  and  will  despise  you  accordingly :  rich  people 
will  wholly  disregard  you,  and  you  will  be  envied 
and  hated  by  those  who  have  the  same  vanity  that 
you  have  without  the  means  of  gratifying  it.  Dress 
should  be  suited  to  your  rank  and  station ;  a  sur- 
geon or  physician  should  not  dress  like  a  carpenter  ! 
but,  there  is  no  reason  why  a  tradesman,  a  mer- 
chant's clerk,  or  clerk  of  any  kind,  or  why  a  shop- 
keeper, or  manufacturer,  or  even  a  merchant ;  no 
reason  at  all  why  any  of  these  should  dress  in 
an  ejcpensive  manner.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to 
suppose,  that  they  derive  any  advantage  from 
exterior  decoration.  Men  are  estimated  by  other 
inen  according  to  their  capacity  and  willingness  to 
be  in  some  way  or  other  useful ;  and,  though,  with 
the  foolish  and  vain  part  of  womerij  fine  clothes  fre- 
quently do  something,  yet  the  greater  part  of  the 
sex  are  much  too  penetrating  to  draw  their  conclu- 
sions solely  from  the  outside  show  of  a  man :  they 
look  deeper,  and  find  other  criterions  whereby  to 
judge.  And,  after  all,  if  the  fine  clothes  obtain  you 
a  wife,  will  they  bring  you,  in  that  wife,  frugality, 
good  sense,  and  that  sort  of  attachment  that  is  likely 
to  be  lasting  ?  Natural  beauty  of  person  is  quite 
another  thing :  this  always  has,  it  always  will  and 
must  have,  some  weight  even  with  men,  and  great 
weight  witli  women.  But,  this  does  not  want  to  be 
set  off  by  expensive  clothes.  Female  eyes  are,  in 
such  cases,  very  sharp ;  they  can  discover  beauty 
though  half  hidden  by  beard,  and  even  by  dirt,  and 
surrounded  by  rags :  and,  take  this  as  a  secret  worth 


1 


•*» 


I.  y 


16 


oobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


half  a  fortune  to  you,  that  women,  however  person- 
ally vain  they  may  be  themselves,  despise  personal 
vanity  in  men, 

21.  Let  your  dress  be  as  cheap  as  may  be  without 
shahbiness ;  think  more  about  the  colour  of  your 
shirt  than  about  the  gloss  or  texture  of  your  coat ; 
be  always  as  clean  as  your  occupation  will,  without 
inconvenience,  permit;  but  never,  no,  not  for  one  mo- 
ment, believe,  that  any  human  being,  with  sense  in 
skull,  will  love  or  respect  you  on  account  of  your  fine 
or  costly  clothes.  \.  A.  great  misfortung^f  the  present 
LdajUMbM.  ^very  one  is,  ijrKi|''owirestimate,  radsied 
\  tthmnp.  Ida  rpnl  state  ^f  life  J  every  one  seems  to  think 
IJTf  ilui  to  tftle  and  great  estate,  at  least 
to  live  without  wor-k.  This  mischievous,  this  most  de- 
structive way  of  thinking,  has,  indeed,  been  produced, 
like  almost  all  our  other  evils,  by  the  Acts  of  our 
Septennial  and  Unreformed  Parliament.  That  body, 
by  its  Acts,  has  caused  an  enormous  Debt  to  be  created, 
and,  in  consequence,  a  prodigious  sum  to  be  raised 
annually  in  taxes.  It  has  caused,  by  these  means,  a 
race  of  loan-mongers  and  stock-jobbers  to  arise. 
These  carry  on  a  species  of  gaming,  by  which  some 
make  fortunes  in  a  day,  and  others,  in  a  day,  become 
beggars.  The  unfortunate  gamesters,  like  the  pur- 
chasers of  blanks  in  a  Lottery,  are  never  heard  of; 
but  the  fortunate  ones  become  companions  for  lords, 
and  some  of  them  lords  themselves.  We  have,  with- 
in these  few  years,  seen  many  of  these  gamesters  get 
fortunes  of  a  quarter  of  a  million  in  a  few  days,  and 
then  we  have  heard  them,  though  notoriously  amongst 
the  lowest  and  basest  of  human  creatures,  called 
*'  Jwnourable  gentlemen.^\f  In  such  a  state  of  things, 
who  is  to  expect  patient  industry,  laborious  study 
frugality,  and  care ;  who,  in  such  a  state  of  things, 
is  to  expect  these  to  be  employed  in  pursuit  of  that 
competence  which  it  is  the  laudable  wish  of  all  men 
to  secure  ?  Not  long  ago  a  man,  who  had  served  his 
time  to  a  tradesman  in  London,  became,  instead  of 
pursuing  his  trade,  a  stock-jobber,  or  gambler ;  and, 
in  about  two  years^  drove  his  coach  and/our ,  had  his 


tj 


TO  A  yoirm. 


f» 


town  house  and  country  house,  and  visited,  and  was 
visited  by,  feers  of  the  highest  rank!  XfelUyw-ap- 
prentice  of  this  lucky  gambler,  though  a  tradesman 
\\\  excellent  business,  seeing  no  earthly  reason  why 
he  should  not  have  his  coach  and  four  also,  turned 
his  stock  in  trade  into  a  stake  for  the  'Change ;  but, 
alas !  at  the  end  of  a  few  months,  instead  of  being 
in  a  coach  and  four,  he  was  in  the  Gazette  ! 

22.  This  is  one  instance  out  of  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands ;  not,  indeed,  exactly  of  the  same  description, 
but  all  arising  from  the  same  copious  source.  The 
words  speculate  and  speculation  have  been  substituted 
for  gamble  and  g-amblin^.  The  hatefulness  of  the 
pursuit  is  thus  taken  away ;  and,  while  taxes  to  the 
amount  of  more  than  double  the  whole  of  the  rental 
of  the  kingdom ;  while  these  cause  such  crowds  of 
idlers,  every  one  of  whom  calls  himself  affentleman, 
and  avoids  the  appearance  of  working  for  his  bread ; 
while  this  is  the  case,  who  is  to  wonder,  that  a  great 
part  of  the  youth  of  the  country,  knowing  themselves 
to  be  as  ffood,  as  learned,  and  as  well  bred  as  these 
gentlemen :  who  is  to  wonder,  that  they  think,  that 
they  also  ought  to  be  considered  as  gentlemen? 
Then,  the  late  war,  Talso  the  work  of  the  Septenni- 
al Parliament,)  has  left  us,  amongst  its  many  lega- 
cies, such  swarms  of  titled  men  and  women  ;  such 
swarms  of  "  Sirs^^  and  their  "  Ladies ;"  men  and 
woTmen  who,  only  the  other  day,  were  the  fel- 
low-apprentices, fellow-trradesmen's  or  farmers'  sons 
and  daughters,  or,  indeed,  the  fellow-servants,  of 
those  who  are  now  in  these  several  states  of  life ; 
the  late  Septennial  Parliament  war  has  left  us  such 
swarms  of  these,  that  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  heads 
of  young  people  are  turned,  and  that  they  are  asha- 
med of  that  state  of  life  to  act  their  part  well  in 
^which  ought  to  be  their  delight. 

23.  But,  though  the  cause  of  the  evil  is  in  Acts  of 
the  Septennial  Parliament ;  though  this  ^^pivfiraal 
.desire  ia^pfiople  to  ^e^t^iQught  tQj^e-abe¥e4heir  sta- 
tionj  though  this   arises  Trom  such  acts;   and,  ~ 
^  **  "i  it  is  no  wonder  that  your»g  men  are  thus 


t  ■[ 


<W- 


18 


cobbett's  advice      I 


[Lettei* 


i.ii 


(!! 


liihi 
in! 


1 


Ljurned  from  patient  study  and  labour^  though  these 
tfiinpTaenjndanbtcd,  they  form  iid  reason  why  I 
should  not  team  you  against  becoming  a  victim  to 
this  national  scourge.  For,  in  spite  of  every  art 
made  use  of  to  avoid  labour,  the  taxes  will,  after  all, 
maintain  only  so  many  idlers.  We  cannot  all  be 
"  knights''*  and  ^^  gentlemen  :^^  there  must  be  a  large 
part  of  us,  after  all,  to  make  and  mend  clothes  and 
houses,  and  carry  on  trade  and  commerce,  and,  in 
spite  of  all  that  we  can  do,  the  far  greater  part  of  us 
must  actually  work  at  something;  for,  unless  we 
can  get  at  some  of  the  taxes,  we  fall  under  the  sen- 
tence of  Holy  Writ,  "  He  who  will  not  work  shall 

jnot  eaty  *Jisi9*SQ,SSS}^J^  M^  ^J^^V^^^l^Y  ^^  .^^ 
l^oiyi^i  ^^,^^tlemen  /*  so  generat  is  this'  desire 
amongst  the  youihr  of  this  formerly  laborious  and 
unassuming  nation  ;  a  nation  famed  for  its  pursuit 
of  wealth  through  the  channels  of  patience,  punctu- 
ality, and  integrity  ;  a  nation  famed  for  its  love  of 
solid  acquisitions  and  qualities,  and  its  hatred  of 

(every  thing  showy  and  false:  so  general  is  this 
really  fraudulent  desire  amongst  the  youth  of  this 
now  "  speculating'''*  nation,  that  thousands   upon 
thousands  of  them  are,  at  this  moment,  in  a  state  of 
half  starvation,  not  so  much  because  they  are  too 
lazy  to  earn  their  bread,  as  because  they  are  too 
p^ovd !    And  what  are  the  consequences  ?    Such  a 
youth  remains  or  becomes,  a  burden  to  his  parents, 
of  whom  he  ought  to  be  the  comfort  if  not  the  sup- 
port.   Mways  aspiring  to  something  higher  than  he . 
caffTcaCTi,  his  life  is  a  life  ol  dlsappoiritment  arid  of 
fihame.    If  marriage  befal  him,  it  is  a  real  affliction, 
involving  others  as  well  as  himself.    His  lot  is  a 
thousand  times  worse  than  that  of  the  commoji  la- 
bouring pauper.    Nineteen  times  out  of  twenty  a 
premature  death  awaits  him :  and,  alas !  how  nume- 
rous are  the  cases  in  which  that  death  is  most  mise- 
rable, not  to  say  ignominious !  jStJ^mdjpride  is  oiie  ' 
of  the  symptons  of  madness.    Of  tnFtwo  madmen 
mentioned  in  Don  Quixote,  one  thought  himself 
Neptune  and  the  other  Juhter.    Shakspeare  agrees 


I.] 


TO  A  YOUTH. 


19 


hese 

hyl 

mto 

f  art 

r  all, 

11  be 

large 

I  and 

id,  in 

of  us 

iS  we 

B  sen- 
shall 

to  be 

desire 

IS  and 

ursuit 

unctu- 

ove  of 

red  of 

Is  this 

)f  this 
upon 

tate  of 

re  too 

re  too 

>uch  a 
irents, 
e  sup- 
an  he . 
laridof 
lotion, 
)t  is  a 

[on  la- 
jnty  a 
ume- 
mise- 
isoiie 
idmen 
imsell 
lagrees 


with  Cervantes  ;  for,  Mad  Tom,  in  King  Lear,  being 
asked  who  he  is,  answers,  "  I  am  a  taSov'  run  mad 
with  pride."  How  many  have  we  heard  of,  who 
claimed  relationship  with  nohlemenond  king's  ;  while 
of  not  a  few  each  has  thought  himself  the  Son  of 
God  !  To  the  public  journals,  and  to  the  observa- 
tions of  every  one,  nay,  to  the  "  county-lunatic  aay^ 
lums"  (things  never  heard  of  in  England  till  now,) 
I  appeal  for  the  fact  of  the  vast  and  hideous  increase 
of  madness  in  this  country;  and,  within  these  very 
iew  years,  how  many  scores  of  young  men,  who,  if 
their  minds  had  been  unperverted  by  the  gambling 
principles  of  the  day,  had  a  probably  long  and  hap- 
py life  before  them ;  who  had  talent,  personal  en- 
dowments, love  of  parents,  love  of  friends,  admira- 
tion of  large  circles ;  who  had,  in  short,  every  thing 
to  make  life  desirable,  and.  wbo,-4yom  mortified 

to  their  own,cxiatimeer-  *" 

24.  As  to  Drunkenness  and  Gluttony,  generally 
so  called,  these  are  vices  so  nasty  and  beastly  that  I 
deem  any  one  capable  of  indulging  in  them  to  be 
wholly  unworthy  of  my  advice ;  and,  if  any  youth, 
unhappily  initiated  in  these  odious  and  debasing 
vices,  should  happen  to  read  what  I  am  now  writing, 
I  refer  him  to  the  command  of  God,  conveyed  to  thfl 
Israelites  by  Moses,  in  Deuteronomy,  chapter  xxi. 
The  father  and  mother  are  to  take  the  bad  son  "and 
bring  him  to  the  elders  of  the  city ;  and  they  shall 
say  to  the  elders,  this  our  son  will  not  obey  our 
voice :  he  is  a  glutton  and  a  drunkard.  And  all  the 
men  of  the  city  shall  stone  him  with  stones,  that  he 
die."  I  refer  downright  beastly  gluttons  and  drunk- 
ards to  this ;  but  indulgence  short,  far  shorty  of  this 
gross  and  really  nasty  drunkenness  and  gluttony  is 
to  be  deprecated,  and  that,  too,  with  the  more  earn- 
estness because  it  is  too  often  looked  upon  as  being 
no  crime  at  all,  and  as  having  nothing  blameable  in 
it :  nay,  there  are  many  persons,  who  pride  them- 
selves on  their  refined  taste  in  matters  connected 
with  eating  and  drinking:  so  far  from  being  asham- 


■1- 


i;: 


i.  bl 

■•  III 


20 


OOBBETT'9  ADVICE 


[Letter 


ed  of  employing  their  thoughts  on  the  subject,  it  is 
their  boast  that  tliey  do  it.  St.  Gregory,  one  of  the 
Christian  fathers,  says:  "It  is  not  the  quantity  or  the 
quality  of  the  meat,  or  drink,  but  the  lave  of  it  that  is 
condemned :"  that  is  to  say,  the  indulgence  beyond 
the  absolute  demands  of  nature ;  the  hankering  after 
it ;  the  neglect  of  some  duty  or  other  for  the  sake  of 
the  enjoyments  of  the  table. 

25.  This  Uwe  of  what  are  called  "  good  eating  and 
drinking,"  if  very  unamiable  in  grown-up  persons, 
is  perfectly  hateful  in  a  youth  ;  and,  if  he  indulge 
in  the  propensity,  he  is  already  half  ruined.  'I'o 
warn  you  against  acts  of  fraud,  robbery,  and  vio- 
lence, is  not  my  province ;  that  is  the  business  of 
those  who  make  and  administer  the  law.  I  am  not 
talking  to  you  against  acts  which  the  jailor  and  the 
hangman  punish ;  nor  against  those  moral  offences 
which  all  men  condemn ;  but  against  indulgences, 
which,  by  men  in  general,  are  deemed  not  only 
harmless,  but  meritorious ;  but  which  the  observa- 
tion of  my  whole  life  has  taught  me  to  regard  as  de- 
structive to  human  happiness ;  and  against  which 
all  ought  to  be  cautioned  even  in  their  boyish  days. 
I  have  been  a  great  observer,  and  I  can  truly  say, 
that  I  have  never  known  a  man,  "  fond  of  good  eat- 
ing and  drinking,"  as  it  is  called ;  that  I  have  never 
known  such  a  man  (and  hundreds  I  have  known) 
who  was  worthy  of  respect. 

26.  Such  indulgences  are,  in  the  first  place,  very 
cvpemive.  The  materials  are  costly,  and  the  pre- 
parations still  more  so.  What  a  monstrous  thing, 
that,  in  order  to  satisfy  the  appetite  of  a  man,  there 
must  be  a  person  or  two  at  work  every  day  !  More 
fuel,  culinary  implements,  kitchen-room :  what !  all 
these  merely  to  tickle  the  palate  of  four  or  five  peo- 
ple, and  especially  people  who  can  hardly  pay  their 
way !  And,  then,  the  loss  of  time:  the  time  spent  in 
pleasing  the  palate:  it  is  truly  horrible  to  behold 
people,  who  ought  to  be  at  work,  sitting,  at  the  tjiree 
meals,  not  less  than  three  of  the  about  fourteen  hours 
that  they  are  out  x)f  their  beds !    j^  youth,  habitual- 


I] 


TO   A  YOUTH. 


21 


ed  to  this  sort  of  indulgence,  cannot  be  valuable  to 
any  employer.  Such  a  youth  cannot  be  deprived  of 
his  table  enjoyments  on  any  account :  his  eating  and 
drinking  form  the  momentous  concern  of  his  life : 
if  business  interfere  with  that,  the  business  must 
give  way.  A  young  man,  some  years  ago,  offered 
himself  to  me,  on  a  particular  occasion,  as  an  ama- 
nnensis,  for  whicli  he  appeared  to  be  perfectly  quali- 
fied. The  terms  were  settled,  and  I,  who  wanted 
the  job  dispatched,  requested  him  to  sit  down,  and 
begin  ;  but  he,  looking  out  of  the  window,  whence 
he  could  see  the  church  clock,  said,  somewhat  hasti- 
ly, "  I  cannot  stop  nmc,  sir,  I  must  go  to  dinner?'^ 
"  Oh !"  said  I,  "  you  must  go  to  dinner,  must  you  ! 
Let  the  dinner,  which  you  must  wait  upon  to-day, 
have  your  constant  services,  then  j  for  you  and  1 
shall  never  agree."  He  had  told  me  that  he  was  in 
great  distress  for  want  of  employment ;  and  yet, 
when  relief  was  there  before  his  eyes,  he  could  fore- 
go it  for  the  sake  of  getting  at  his  eating  and  drink- 
ing three  or  four  hours,  perhaps,  sooner  than  I 
should  have  thought  it  right  for  him  to  leave  off 
work.  Such  a  person  cannot  be  sent  from  home, 
except  at  c^tain  times ;  he  must  be  near  the  kitchen 
at  three  fixed  hours  of  the  day :  if  he  be  absent 
more  than  four  or  five  hours,  he  is  ill-treated.  In 
short,  a  youth  thus  pampered  is  worth  nothing  as  a 
person  to  be  employed  in  business. 

27.  And,  as  \o  friends  and  acquaintances;  they 
will  say  nothing  to  you  ;  they  will  offer  you  indul- 
gences under  their  roofs ;  but,  the  more  ready  you 
are  to  accept  of  their  offers,  and,  in  fact,  the  better 
taste  you  discover,  the  less  they  will  like  you,  and 
the  sooner  they  will  find  means  of  shaking  you  off; 
for,  besides  the  cost  which  you  occasion  them,  peo- 
ple do  not  like  to  have  critics  sitting  in  judgment 
on  their  bottles  and  dishes.  Water-drinkers  are 
universally  laughed  at ;  but,  it  has  always  seemed 
to  me,  that  they  are  amongst  the  most  welcome  of 
guests,  and  that,  too,  though  the  host  be  by  no 
means  of  a  niggardly  turn.    The  tnith  is,  they  give 


I 


■i 


r 


•I 


:i 


22 


oobbett's  ADvicn 


[Lottcr 


ii!  I 


w 


nil 


no  trmthh ;  they  occasion  no  anxiety  to  please  tliem ; 
they  are  sure  not  to  make  their  sittings  inconvenient^ 
ly  long ;  and,  which  is  the  great  thing  of  all,  their 
example  teaclies  moderation  to  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany. Your  notorious  "  lovers  of  good  cheer"  are, 
on  the  contrary,  not  to  be  invited  without  due  reflec- 
tion: to  entertain  one  of  them  is  a  serious  business; 
and  as  people  are  not  apt  voluntarily  to  undertake 
sucli  pieces  of  business,  the  well-known  "  lovers  of 
good  eating  and  drinking"  are  left,  very  generally, 
to  enjoy  it  by  themselves  and  at  their  own  expense. 
28.  But,  all  other  considerations  aside,  health.,  the 
most  valuable  of  all  earthly  possessions,  and  without 
which  all  the  rest  are  worth  notbing,  bids  us,  not 
only  to  refrain  from  excess  in  eating  and  drinking, 
but  bids  us  to  stop  short  of  what  might  be  indulged 
in  without  any  apparent  impropriety.  The  words 
of  EccLEsiASTicus  ouglit  to  be  read  once  a  week  by 
every  young  person  in  the  world,  and  particularly 
by  the  young  people  of  this  country  at  this  time. 
"  Eat  modestly  that  which  is  set  before  thee,  and  de- 
vour not,  lest  thou  be  hated.  When  thou  sittest 
amongst  many,  reach  not  thine  hand  out  first  of  all. 
How  little  is  sufficient  for  man  well  taught !  A  whole- 
some sleep  Cometh  of  a  temperate  belly.  Such  a 
man  ri^th  up  in  the  mornings  and  is  well  at  ea.tp 
with  himself.  Be  not  too  hasty  of  meats ;  for  excess 
of  meats  bringeth  sickness,  and  choleric  disease 
Cometh  of  gluttony.  By  surfeit  have  man3'^  perish- 
ed, and  he  that  dieteth  Jdmself  prolongetJi  his  life. 
Show  not  thy  valiantness  in  wine;  for  wine  halli 
destroyed  many.  Wine  measurably  taken,  and  in 
season,  bringeth  gladness  and  cheerfulness  of  mind ; 
but  drinking  with  excess  maketh  bitterness  of  mind, 
brawlings  and  scoldings."  How  true  are  these  words ! 
How  well  worthy  of  a  constant  place  in  our  memo- 
ries !  Yet,  what  pains  have  been  taken  to  apoloj^jse 
for  a  life  contrary  to  these  precepts !  And,  good  God ! 
what  punishment  can  be  too  great,  what  mark  of 
infamy  sufficiently  signal,  for  those  pernicious  vil- 
lains of  talent,  who  have  employed  that  talent  in  the 


■  b 


I 


Ij 


TO  A  YOUTH, 


S3 


composition  of  Bacchanalian  som^a  ;  that  is  to  say, 
pieces  of  fine  and  captivating  writing  in  praise  of 
one  of  the  moat  odious  and  destructive  vices  in  the 
black  catalogue  of  human  depravity ! 

29.  In  the  passage  which  f  have  just  quoted  from 
chap.  xxxi.  of  Ecclesiasticus, it  is  said,  tliiit  "wine, 
iiieasureably  taken,  and  in  season,"  is  a  prope?'  thhiff. 
This,  and  other  such  passages  of  the  Old  Testament, 
liave  given  a  handle  to  drunkards,  and  to  extrava- 
gant people,  to  insist,  that  God  intended  that  wine 
should  be  commonly  drunk.  No  doubt  of  that.  But, 
then,  he  could  intend  this  only  in  countries  in  which 
lie  had  given  wine,  and  to  which  he  had  given  no 
cheaper  drink  except  water.  If  it  be  said,  as  it  truly 
may,  that,  by  the  means  of  the  sea  and  the  winds, 
lie  has  given  wine  to  all  countries,  I  answer  that  this 
gift  is  of  no  use  to  us  now,  because  our  government 
steps  in  between  the  sea  and  the  winds  and  us.  For- 
'inctiy,  indeed,  the  case  was  different :  and,  here  I  am 
about  to  give  you,  incidentally,  a  piece  of  historical 
knowledge,  which  you  will  not  have  acquired  from 
Hume,  Goldsmith,  or  any  other  of  the  romancers 
called  historians.  Before  that  unfortunate  event, 
the  Protestant  Reformation,  as  it  is  called,  took 
place,  the  price  of  red  wine,  in  England,  was  foiiV' 
pence  a  gallon,  Winchester  measure;  and,  of  white 
wine,  sixpence  a  gallon.  At  the  same  time  the  pay 
of  a^  labouring  man  per  day,  as  fixed  by  law,  was 
foufpence.  Now,  when  a  labouring  man  could  earn 
four  quarts  of  good  wine  in  a  day,  it  was,  doubtless, 
allowable,  even  in  England,  for  people  in  the  middle 
rank  of  life  to  drink  wine  rather  commonly ;  and, 
therefore,  in  those  happy  days  of  England,  these 
passages  of  Scripture  were  applicable  enough.  But, 
now  when  we  have  got  a  Protestant  government, 
which  by  the  taxes  which  it  makes  people  pay  to  it, 
causes  the  eighth  part  of  a  gallon  of  wine  to  cost 
more  than  the  pay  of  a  labouring  man  for  a  day ; 
now,  this  passage  of  Scripture  is  not  applicable  to 
us.  There  is  no  ^^season^^  in  which  wo  can  take 
wine  without  ruining  ourselvcSj  however  "  measiir- 


A 


I* 


IP- 


24 


cobbett's  advicb 


[Letter 


I  III! 

M 


cMif^  we  may  take  it ,  and,  I  beg  you  to  regard,  as 
perverters  of  Scripture  and  as  seducers  of  youth,  all 
those  who  cite  passages  like  that  above  cited,  in  jus- 
tification of,  or  as  an  apology  for,  the  practice  of 
wine  drinking  in  England. 

30.  I  beseech  you  to  look  again  and  again  at,  and 
to  remember  every  word  of,  the  passage  which  I 
have  just  quoted  from  the  book  of  Ecclesiasticus. 
How  completely  have  been,  and  are,  its  words  verifi- 
ed by  my  experience  and  in  my  person !  How  little 
of  eating  and  drinking  is  sufficient  for  me !  How 
wholesome  is  my  sleep !  How  early  do  I  rise ;  and 
how  '''"well  at  ease*^  am  I  "with  myself!"  I  should 
not  have  deserved  such  blessings,  if  I  had  withheld 
from  my  neighbours  a  knowledge  of  the  means  by 
which  they  were  obtained ;  and,  therefore,  this  know- 
ledge I  have  been  in  the  constant  habit  of  communi- 
cating. When  one  g'ives  a  dinner  to  a  company^  it 
is  an  extraordinary  affair,  and  is  intended,  by  sensi- 
ble men,  for  purposes  other  than  those  of  eating  and 
drinking.  But,  in  general^  in  the  every-day  life, 
despicable  are  those  who  suffer  any  part  of  their 
happiness  to  depend  upon  what  they  have  to  eat  or 
to  drink,  provided  they  have  a  siifficiency  of  whole- 
some food  ;  despicable  is  the  7«a«,  and  worse  than 
despicable  the  youth^  that  would  make  any  sacrifice, 
however  small,  whether  of  money,  or  of  time,  or  of 
any  thing  else,  in  order  to  secure  a  dinner  different 
from  that  which  he  would  have  had  without  such 
sacrifice.  Who,  what  man,  ever  performed  a  great- 
er quantity  of  labour  than  I  have  performed  ?  What 
man  ever  did  so  much  ?  Now,  in  a  great  measure  I 
owe  my  capability  to  perform  this  labour  to  my  dis- 
regard of  dainties.  Being  shut  up  two  years  in 
Newgate,  with  a  fine  on  my  head  of  a  thousand 
pounds  to  the  king,  for  having  expressed  my  indig- 
nation at  the  flogging  of  Englishmen  under  a  guard 
of  German  bayonets,  I  ate,  during  one  whole  year, 
one  mutton  chop  every  day.  Being  once  in  town, 
with  one  son  (then  a  little  boy)  and  a  clerk,  while 
my  family  was  in  the  country^  I  had  during  some 


weeks 

mutto: 

ed;  tl 

I  have 

procee 

day  the 

day  ex 

necessi 

tain  th{ 

life,  spt 

Ue^  incl 

I  take  c 

wholesc 

by  Chan 

aside,  oi 

to  gathe 

is,  to  eat 

He  that 

and  he  tl 

31.  Be 

drinking 

selves  fr( 

slop-ketth 

such  sla\ 

slops  are 

(having  i 

habits  of 

even  tlies 

cieiit  to  g 

since  had 

assert,  thi 

two    of  1 

whether  u 

whatever 

ever,  at  pi 

,  ihe great  c 

[fi'ovi  youi 

your  pf)we) 

be,  and  fro 

pose  you  t 

useful  man 


I 


I] 


TO  A  YOUtH. 


25 


weeks,  nothing  but  legs  of  mutton ;  first  day.  leg  of 
mutton  boiled  or  roasted  ;  second,  cold;  third,  hashr 
ed  ;  then,  leg  of  mutton  boiled  ;  and  so  on.  When 
I  have  been  by  myself,  or  nearly  so,  I  have  cdwaya 
proceeded  thus :  given  directions  for  having  every 
day  the  same  thills',  or  alternately  as  above,  and  every 
day  exactly  at  the  same  hour,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
necessity  of  any  talk  about  the  matter.  I  am  cer- 
tain that,  upon  an  average,  I  have  not,  during  my 
life,  spent  more  than  thirty-Jive  minutes  a  day  at  ta- 
ble, including  all  the  meals  of  the  day.  I  like,  and 
I  take  care  to  have,  good  and  clean  victuals  ;  but,  if 
wholesome  and  clean,  that  is  enough.  If  I  find  it, 
by  chance,  too  coarse  for  my  appetite,  I  put  the  food 
aside,  or  let  somebody  do  it,  and  leave  the  appetite 
to  gather  keenness.  But,  the  great  security  of  all 
is,  to  eat  little,  and  to  drink  nothing  that  intoxicates. 
He  that  eats  till  he  i^fidl  is  little  better  than  a  beast ; 
and  he  that  drinks  till  he  is  drunk  is  quite  a  beast. 

31.  Before  I  dismiss  this  affair  of  eating  and 
drinking,  let  me  beseech  you  to  resolve  to  free  your- 
selves from  the  slavery  of  the  tea  and  coffee  and  other 
slop-kettle,  if,  unhappily,  you  have  been  bred  up  in 
such  slavery.  Experience  has  taught  me,  that  those 
slops  are  injurious  to  health  ;  until  I  left  them  off 
(having  taken  to  them  at  the  age  of  26,)  even  my 
habits  of  sobriety,  moderate  eating,  ep/rly  rising ; 
even  these  were  not,  until  I  left  off  the  slops,  suffi- 
ciefit  to  give  me  that  complete  health  which  I  have 
since  had.  I  pretend  not  to  be  a  "  doctor  j"  but,  I 
assert,  that  to  pour  regularly,  every  day,  a  pint  or 
two  of  warm  liquid  matter  down  the  throat, 
whether  under  the  name  of  tea,  coffee,  soup,  grog,  or 
whatever  else,  is  greatly  injurious  to  health.  How- 
ever, at  present,  what  I  have  to  represent  to  you  is 
thef^reat  deduction,which  iJie  tise  of  these  slops  makes, 
\from  your  poicer  of  being  useful,  and  also  from 
yowx  p(mer  to  husband  your  income,  whatever  it  may 
be,  and  from  whatever  source  arising.  I  am  to  sup- 
pose you  to  be  desirous  to  become  a  clever,  and  a 
useful  man  j  a  man  to  be,  if  not  admired  and  revered, 

a 


■A 


26 


^  COBBErr*S   ADVICE 


[Letter 


III 


at  least  to  be  respected.  In  order  to  merit  respect 
beyond  that  which  is  due  to  very  common  men,  you 
must  do  something  more  than  very  common  men ; 
and  I  am  now  going  to  show  you  how  your  course 
must  be  impeded  by  the  use  of  the  slops. 

32.  If  the  women  exclaim,  "  Nonsense !  come 
and  take  a  cup,"  take  it  for  that  once ;  but,  hear 
what  I  have  to  say.  In  answer  to  my  representa- 
tion regarding  the  waste  of  time  which  is  occasioned 
by  the  slops,  it  has  been  said,  that  let  what  may  be 
the  nature  of  the  food,  there  must  be  time  for  taking 
it.  Not  so  much  time,  however,  to  eat  a  bit  of  meat 
or  cheese  or  butter  with  a  bit  of  bread.  But,  these 
may  be  eaten  in  a  shop,  a  warehouse,  a  factory,  far 
from  rniy  Jire,  and  even  in  a  carriage  on  the  road. 
The  slops  absolutely  demandj^re  and  a  co'iigregatimi ; 
so  that,  be  your  business  what  it  may ;  be  you  shop- 
keeper, farmer,  drover,  sportsman,  traveller,  to  the 
slop-board  you  must  come ;  you  must  wait  for  its 
assembling,  or  start  from  home  without  your  break- 
fast ;  and,  being  used  to  the  warm  liquid,  you  feel 
out  of  order  for  the  want  of  it.  If  the  slops  were  in 
fashion  amongst  ploughmen  and  carters,  we  must 
all  be  starved  ;  for  the  food  could  never  be  raised. 
The  mechanics  are  half-ruined  by  them.  Many  of 
them  are  become  poor,  enervated  creatures  ;  and 
chiefly  from  this  cause.  But  is  the  positive  cost 
nothing  ?  At  boarding-schools,  an  additional  price 
is  given  on  account  of  the  tea  slops.  Suppose  you 
to  be  a  clerk,  in  hired  lodgings,  and  going  to  your 
counting-house  at  nine  o'clock.  You  get  your  din- 
ner, perhaps,  near  to  the  scene  of  your  work ;  but 
how  are  you  to  have  the  breakfast  slops  without  a 
servant  ?  Perhaps  you  find  a  lodging  just  to  suit  you, 
but  the  house  is  occupied  by  people  who  keep  no  ser- 
vants, and  you  want  a  servant  to  liffht  a  fire  and  get 
the  slop  ready.  You  could  get  this  lodging  for 
several  shillings  a  week  less  than  another  at  ihv. 
next  door  ;  but  ihei'e  they  keep  a  servant,  who  will 
"  d,'t'^  you  your  breakfast,"  and  preserve  yon,  licnevo 
lent  creature  as  she  is,  from  the  cruel  necessity  of 


!      ;! 


road. 

ition; 

shop- 
to  the 

or  its 

)reak- 

u  feel 

ere  in 
must 

aiscd. 

iny  of 
and 
cost 
price 
e  you 
your 
ir  din- 
;  but 
out  a 
Ityou, 
lo  ser- 
[id  get 

S  f<n- 
t  tlm 

)  will 
li\evo 
ty  of 


1. 1 


TO  A  YOUTH. 


S7 


going  to  the  cupboard  and  cutting  off  a  slice  of  meat 
or  cheese  and  a  bit  of  bread.    She  will,  most  likely, 
toast  your  bread  for  you,  too,  and  melt  your  butter  j 
and  then  muffle  you  up,  in  winter,  and  send  you  out 
almost  swaddled.    Really  such  a  thing  can  hardly  be 
expected  ever  to  become  a  w«w.    You  are  weak ; 
you  have  delicate  health;  you  are  "  bilious  /"   Why, 
my  good  fellow,  it  is  these  very  slops  that  make  you 
weak  and  bilious ;  and,  indeed,  the  poverty,  the  real 
poverty,  that  they  and  their  concomitants  bring  on 
you,  greatly  assists,  in  more  ways  than  one,  in  pro- 
ducing your  "  delicate  health." 
33.  So  much  for  indulgences  in  eating,  drinking 
and  dress.    Next,  as  to  amitsenients.    It  is  recorded, 
of  the  famous  Alfred  that  he  devoted  eight  hours  of 
the  twenty-four  to  labour,  eight  to  r^est,  and  eight  to 
recreation.    He  was,  however,  a  kiri^,  ond  coiUd  be 
ihhikiiig  during  the  eight  hours  of  recreation.    It  is 
certain,  that  there  ought  to  be  hours  of  recreation, 
and  I  do  not  know  that  eight  are  too  many ;  but,  then 
observe,  those  hours  ought  to  be  well  chosen,  and  the 
sort  of  recreation  ought  to  be  attended  to.    It  ought 
to  be  such  as  is  at  once  innocent  in  itself  and  in 
its  tendency,  and  not  injurious  to  health.  The  sports 
of  the  field  are  the  best  of  all,  because  they  are 
conducive  to  health,  because  they  are  enjoyed  by 
day-light,  and  because  they  demand  early  rising. 
The  nearer  that  other  amusements  approach  to  these, 
tliQ  better  they  are.    A  town-life,  which  many  per- 
sons are  compelled,  by  the  nature  of  their  calling,  to 
lead,  precludes  the  possibility  of  pursuing  amuse- 
ments of  this  description  to  any  very  considerable 
extent;  and  young  men  in  towns  are,  generally 
speaking,  compelled  to  choose  between  books  on  the 
one  hand,  ox  gaming  and  the  play-house  on  the  other. 
Dancbig  is  at  once  rational  and  healthful :  it  gives 
animal  spirits :  it  is  the  natural  amusement  of  young 
people,  and  such  it  has  been  from  the  days  of  Moses : 
it  is  enjoyed  in  numerous  companies :  it  makes  the 
parties  to  be  pleased  with  themselves   and  with 
all  aboiU  them :  it  has  no  tendency  to  excilobase  and 


% 
1 

I 

^ 


3 


..*.   't 


ifi 


28 


COBBETT'fl  ACVlca 


[Letter 


I  p  I 


\n\:':\\' 


malignant  feelings ;  and  none  but  the  most  grovel- 
ling and  hateful  tyranny,  or  the  most  stupid  and 
despicable  fanaticism,  ever  raised  its  voice  against  it. 
The  bad  modern  habits  of  England  have  created  one 
inconvenience  attending  the  enjoyment  of  this 
healthy  and  innocent  pastime ;  namely,  late  fwurs, 
which  are  at  once  injurious  to  health  and  destructive 
of  order  and  of  industry.  In  other  countries  people 
dance  by  day-light.  Here  they  do  not ;  and,  there- 
fore, you  must,  in  this  respect,  submit  to  the  custom, 
though  not  without  robbing  the  dancing  night  of  as 
many  hours  as  you  can. 

34.  As  to  Gaming,  it  is  always  criminal^  either  in 
itself,  or  in  its  tendency.  The  basis  of  it  is  covetous- 
ness ;  a  desire  to  take  from  others  something,  for 
which  you  have  given,  and  intend  to  give,  no  equiva- 
lent. No  gambler  was  ever  yet  a  happy  man,  and 
very  few  gamblers  have  escaped  being  miserable; 
and,  observe,  to  game  for  nothwg  is  still  gaming,  and 
naturally  leads  to  gaming  for  something.  It  is  sa- 
crificing time,  and  that,  too,  for  the  worst  of  pur- 
poses. I  have  kept  house  for  nearly  forty  years  j  I 
have  reared  a  family ;  I  have  entertained  as  many 
friends  as  most  people;  and  I  have  never  had 
cards,  dice,  a  chess-board,  nor  any  implement 
of  gaming,  under  my  roof.  The  hours  that  young 
men  spend  in  this  way  are  hours  viur'dered ; 
precious  hours,  that  ought  to  be  spent  either 
in  reading  or  in  writing,  or  in  rest,  preparatory  to 
the  duties  of  the  dawn.  Though  I  do  not  agree  with 
the  base  and  nauseous  flatterers,  who  now  declare 
the  army  to  be  the  best  school  for  statesmen,  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  school  in  which  to  learn  experimentally 
many  useful  lessons ;  and,  in  this  school  I  learned, 
that  men,  fond  of  gaming,  are  very  rarely,  if  ever 
trust-worthy.  I  have  known  many  a  clever  man 
rejected  in  the  way  of  promotion  only  because  he 
was  addicted  to  gaming.  Men,  in  that  state  of  life, 
cannot  ruin  themselves  by  gaming,  for  they  possess 
no  fortune,  nor  money ;  but  the  taste  for  gaming  is 
always  regarded  as  an  indication  of  a  radically  bad 


1  'I 


L] 


TO  A  YOUTH. 


Ho 


r,for 
Liiva- 
and 
able; 
r,  and 
IS  sa- 
pur- 
rsj  1 
nany 
had 
ment 
oung 
Ted ; 
either 
►ry  lo 
with 
3clare 
scer- 
itally 
rned, 
ever 
man 
[ise  he 
f  life, 
)ssess 

ng  is 

ly  bad 


disposition ;  and  I  can  truly  say,  that  I  neVer  in  my 
whole  life  knew  a  man,  fond  of  gaming,  who  was  not, 
in  some  way  or  other,  a  person  unworthy  of  confi- 
dence.   This  vice  creeps  on  by  very  slow  degrees, 
till,  at  last,  it  becomes  an  ungovernable  passion, 
swallowing  up  every  good  and  kind  feeling  of  the 
heart.    The  gambler,  as  pourtrayed  by  Regnard,  in 
a  comedy  the  translation  of  which  into  English  re- 
sembles the  original  much  about  as  nearly  as  Sir 
James  Graham's  plagiarisms  resembled  the  Registers 
on  which  they  had  been  committed,  is  a  fine  instance 
of  the  contempt  and  scorn  to  which  gaming,  at  last, 
reduces  its  votaries  ;  but,  if  any  young  man  be  en- 
gaged in  this  fatal  career,  and  be  not  yet  wholly  lost, 
let  him  behold  Hogarth's  gambler  just  when  he  has 
made  his  last  throw,  and  when  disappointment  has 
bereft  him  of  his  senses.    If  after  this  sight,  he  re- 
main obdurate,  he  is  doomed  to  be  a  disgrace  to  his 
name. 
35.  The   Theatre  may  be  a  source  not  only  of 
M    amusement  but  also  of  instruction  j  but,  as  things 
■*    now  are  in  this  country,  what,  that  is  not  bad,  is  to 
be  learned  in  this  school  ?    In  the  first  place  not  a 
word  is  allowed  to  be  uttered  on  the  stage,  which  has 
not  been  previously  approved  of  by  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain ;  that  is  to  say,  by  a  person  appointed  by  the 
Ministry,  who,  at  his  pleasure  allows,  or  disallows, 
of  any  piece,  or  any  words  in  a  piece,  submitted  to  his 
inspection.    In  short,  those  who  go  to  play-houses, 
pay  tJieir  money  to  hear  uttered  such  words  as  the 
government  approve  of,  and  no  others.    It  is  now  just 
twenty-six  years  since  I  first  well  understood  how 
this  matter  was  managed ;  and,  from  that  moment 
to  this,  I  have  never  been  in  an  English  play-house. 
Besides  this,  the  meanness,  the  abject  servility,  of 
the  players,  and  the  slavish  conduct  of  the  audience, 
are  sufficient  to  corrupt  and  debase  the  heart  of  any 
young  man,  who  is  a  frequent  beholder  of  them. 
Homage  is  here  paid  to   every  one  clothed  with 
power,  be  he  who  or  what  he  may ;  real  virtue  and 
public-spirit  are  subjects  of  ridicule;  and  mock-eeu- 

3* 


:,-i 


A 


. 


30 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


i-i  ! 

I!' 


i(hi 


1/ 


timeiit  and  mock-liberality  and  mock-loyalty  are 
applauded  to  the  skies. 

36.  "  Show  me  a  man's  companiona^^''  says  the  pro- 
verb, "  and  I  will  tell  you  what  tlie  man  is ;"  and  this  is, 
and  must  be  true ;  because  all  men  seek  the  society  of 
those  who  think  and  act  somewhat  like  themselves ; 
sober  men  will  not  associate  with  drunkards,  frugal 
men  will  not  like  spendthrifts,  and  the  orderly  and 
decent  shun  the  noisy,  the  disorderly,  and  the  de- 
bauched. It  is  for  the  very  vulgar  to  herd  together 
as  singers,  ringers  and  smokers ;  but.  there  is  a  class 
rather  higher  still  more  blameable  ;/l^aiean,.UwiJ^- 
VyiBra.-haunter&,-the  gay  companion!^  %ho  herd  io- 
^^ether  to  do  little  but  talk,  and  who  ar^  so  fond  of 
*Talk  that  they  go  from  home  to  get  at  it.  i  The  con- 
f  versation  amongst  such  personslias  nothing  of  in- 
i^  struction  in  it,  and  is  generally  of  a  vicious  tendency. 
Young  people  naturally  and  commendably  seek 
the  society  of  those  of  their  own  age ;  but,  be  care- 
ful in  choosing  your  companions;  and  lay  this 
down  as  a  rule  never  to  be  departed  from,  that  no 
youth,  nor  man,  ought  to  be  called  your  friend,  who 
is  addicted  to  indecent  talk,  or  who  is  fond  of  the 
society  of  prostitutes.  Either  of  these  argues  a  de- 
praved taste,  and  even  a  depraved  heart ;  an  absence 
of  all  principle  and  of  all  trust-worthiness  ;  and,  I 
have  remarked  it  all  my  life  long,  that  young  men, 
addicted  to  these  vices,  never  succeed  in  the  end, 
whatever  advantages  they  may  have,  whether  in  for- 
tune or  in  talent.  Fond  mothers  and  fathers  are  but 
too  apt  to  be  over-lenient  to  such  offenders ;  and,  as 
long  as  youth  lasts  and  fortune  smiles,  the  punish- 
ment is  deferred  ;  but,  it  comes  at  last ;  it  is  sure  to 
come ;  and  the  gay,  and  dissolute  youth  is  a  dejected 
and  rniserabld  man.  After  the  early  part  of  a  life  spent 
in  illicit  indulgences,  a  man  is  tmxcorthy  of  being  the 
husband  of  a  virtuous  woman ;  and,  if  he  have  any 
thing  like  justice  in  him,  how  is  he  to  reprove,  in  \\\i 
children,  vices  in  which  he  himself  so  long  indiiig<  1? 
These  vices  of  youth  are  varnished  over  by  the  say- 
ing, that  there  must  be  time  for  ''  sowing  the  mkl 


J 


liter 

are 

pro- 
lis  is, 
ityof 
Ives ; 
rugal 
J  and 
e  de- 
ether 
.  class 

•d  to- 

jndof 

3  con- 

of  in- 

aency. 
seek 

e  care- 

ly  this 

lat  no 

c/,who 
of  the 

!S  a  de- 

^bsence 
and,  1   , 
gmcn, 
e  end, 
infor- 

lare  but 

jand,  as 
►nnish- 
Isure  to 
1  ejected 
le  spent 
|ing  the 
ive  any 
in  his 

le  say- 
lie  u'i/il 


M 


TO  A  VOUTH. 


31 


00X8^^"*  and  that  "  wildest  colts  make  the  best  hm'teaP 
These  figurative  oats  are,  however,  generally  like 
the  literal  ones ;  they  are  never  to  he  eradicated  fnym 
the  soil ;  and  as  to  the  coltSy  wildness  in  them  is  an 
indication  of  hi^h  animal  spirit,  having  nothing  at 
all  to  do  with  the  mind,  which  is  invariably  debilita- 
ted and  debased  by  profligate  indulgences.    Yet  this 
miserable  piece  of  sophistry,  the  offspring  of  paren- 
tal weakness,  is  in  constant  use,  to  the  incalculable 
injury  of  the  rising  generation.    What  so  amiable 
as  a  steady,  trust-worthy  boy  ?    He  is  of  real  use 
at  an  early  age :  he  can  be  trusted  far  out  of  the 
sight  of  parent  or  employer,  while  the  "  picfcfe,"  as 
the  poor  fond  parents  call  the  profligate,  is  a  great 
deal  worse  than  useless,  because  there  must  be  some 
one  to  see  that  he  does  no  harm.    If  you  have  to 
choose,  choose  companions  of  your  own  rank  in  life 
as  nearly  as  may  be ;  but,  at  any  rate,  none  to  whom 
you  acknowledge  iiiferiority  ;  for,  slavery  is  too  soon 
learned;? and.  if  the  mind  be  .l2ft3iv:£4jjQ.WiL,ia*il^ 
youth,  it 'will  seldoift  xisfi  up  iaj^hie  ^^m^^       In  the 
schools  of  those  best  of  teachers,  the  Jesuits,  there 
is  perfect  equality  as  to  rank  in  life ;  the  boy,  who 
enters  there,  leaves  all  family  pride  behind  him: 
intrinsic  merit  alone  is  the  standard  of  preference  ; 
and  the  masters  are  so  scrupulous  upon  this  head, 
that  they  do  not  suffer  one  scholar,  of  whatever 
rank,  to  have  more  money  Jo  spend  than  the  poorest. 
These  wise  men  know  well  the  mischiefs  that  must 
arise  from  inequality  of  pecuniary  means  amongst 
J  their  scholars :  they  know  how  injurious  it  would 
be  to  learning,  if  deference  were,  by  the  learned, 
paid  to  the  dunce;  and  they,  therefore,  take  the 
[most  effectual  means  to  prevent  it.    Hence,  amongst 
lother  causes,  it  is,  that  their  scholars  have,  ever 
[since  the  existence  of  their  Order,  been  the  most 
[celebrated  for  learning  of  any  men  in  the  world. 

37.  In  your  manners  be  neither  boorish  nor  blunt, 
nit,  even  these  are  preferable  to  simpering  and 
jrawling.  I  wish  eveiy  English  youth  could  see 
those  of  the  United  States  of  America  ;  always  civil, 


± 

1 


a 


^^^1 


,w 


IH 


32 


oobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


ii'n 


;';i 


I! 


m 


:'.  ':i 


:  '4 


|!i|l||i| 


never  servile.  De  obedient^  where  obedience  is  due ; 
for,  it  is  no  act  of  meanness,  and  no  indication  of 
want  of  spirit,  to  yield  implicit  and  ready  obedience 
to  those  who  have  a  right  to  demand  it  at  your 
hands.  In  this  respect  England  has  been,  and,  I 
hope,  always  will  be,  an  example  to  the  whole 
world.  To  this  habit  of  willing  and  prompt  obedi- 
ence in  apprentices,  in  servants;  in  all  inferiors  in 
station,  she  owes,  in  a  great  measure,  her  multitudes 
of  matchless  merchants,  tradesmen,  and  woricmen 
of  every  description,  and  also  the  achievements  of 
her  armies  and  ravies.  It  is  no  disgrace,  but  the 
contrary,  to  obey,  cheerfully,  lawful  and  just  com- 
mands. None  are  so  saucy  and  disobedient  as 
slaves ;  and,  when  you  come  to  read  history,  you 
will  find  that  in  proportion  as  nations  have  been 
free  has  been  their  reverence  for  the  laws.  But, 
there  is  a  wide  difference  between  lawful  and  cheer- 
ful obedience  and  that  servility  which  represents 
people  as  laying  petitions  "  at  the  king'^sfeet,^^  which 
makes  us  imagine  that  we  behold  the  supplicants 
actually  crawling  upon  their  bellies.  There  is  some- 
thing so  abject  in  this  expression  ;  there  is  such  hor- 
rible self-abasement  in  it,  that  I  do  hope  that  every 
youth,  who  shall  read  this,  will  hold  in  detestation 
the  reptiles  who  make  use  of  it.  In  all  other  coun- 
tries, the  lowest  individual  can  put  a  petition  into  the  ^^ 
hands  of  the  chief  magistrate,  be  he  king  or  empe- 
ror :  let  us  hope,  that  the  time  will  yet  come  when 
Englishmen  will  be  able  to  do  the  same.  In  the 
meanwhile  I  beg  you  to  despise  these  worse  than 
pagan  parasites. 

38.  Hitherto  I  have  addressed  you  chiefly  relative  ^ 
to  the  things  to  be  avoided :  let  me  now  turn  to  tlie  I 
things  which  you  ought  to  do.    And,  first  of  all,  the , 
hushanding  ojtjour  time.    The  respect  that  you  will 
receive,  the  real  and  sincere  respect^  will  depend  en- 
tirely on  what  you  are  able  to  do.    If  you  be  rich, 
you  may  purchase  what  is  called  respect ;  but,  it  is 
not  worth  having.    To  obtain  respect  worth  possess 
ing  you  must,  as  I  observed  before,  do  more  thnii  '| 


I.J 


TO  A  TOUTIL 


33 


the  common  run  of  men  in  your  state  of  life :  and, 
to  be  enabled  to  do  this,  you  must  manage  well  ycnir 
time:  and,  to  manage  it  well,  you  must  have  as 
much  of  the  day-light  and  as  little  of  the  candle' 
light  as  is  consistent  with  the  due  discharge  of  your 
duties.  When  people  get  into  the  habit  of  sitting 
up  merely  for  the  purpose  of  talking^  it  is  no  easy 
matter  to  break  themselves  of  it ;  and  if  they  do  not 
go  to  bed  early,  they  cannot  rise  early.  Young 
people  require  more  sleep  than  those  that  are  grown 
up :  there  must  be  the  number  of  hours,  and  that 
number  cannot  well  be,  on  an  average,  less  than 
eight :  and,  if  it  be  more  in  winter  time,  it  is  all  the 
better ;  for,  an  hour  in  bed  is  better  than  an  hour 
spent  over  fire  and  candle  in  an  idle  gossip.  People 
never  should  sit  talking  till  they  do  not  know  what 
to  talk  about.  It  is  said  by  the  country-people,  that 
one  hour's  sleep  before  midnight  is  worth  more  than 
two  areworth  after  midnight,  and  this  I  believe  to  be 
I  a  fact ;  but,  it  is  useless  to  go  to  bed  early  and  even  to 
rise  early,  if  the  time  be  not  well  employed  after 
rising.  In  general,  half  the  morning  is  loitered  away, 
the  party  being  in  a  sort  of  half-dressed  half-naked 
[state ;  out  of  bed,  indeed,  but  still  in  a  sort  of  bed- 
[ding.  Those  who  first  invented  morning->gowns  and 
clippers  could  have  very  little  else  to  do.  These 
things  are  very  suitable  to  those  who  have  had  for- 
luneg  gained  for  them  by  others :  very  suitable  to 
those  who  have  nothing  to  do,  and  who  merely  live 
for  the  purpose  of  assisting  to  consume  the  produce 
)f  the  earth ;  but,  he  who  has  his  bread  to  earn,  or 
/ho  means  to  be  worthy  of  respect  on  account  of 
lis  labours,  has  no  business  with  morning  gown 
ind  slippers.  In  short,  be  vour  business  or  calling 
^hat  it  may,  dress  at  once  tor  the  day  ;  and  learn  to 
|lo  it  a^  quickly  as  possibfe.  A  looking-glass  is  a 
)lece  of  furniture  a  great  deal  worse  than  useless. 
"jookivg  at  the  face  will  not  alter  its  shape  or  its 
Nour ;  and,  perhaps,  of  all  wasted  time,  none  is  so 
)olishly  wasted  as  that  which  is  employed  in  sur- 
veying one's  own  face.    Nothing  can  be  of  Uttle  im- 


•i: 

■'i 


■» 


■m 


cobbett's  advice 


mm 


I'i! 


li!' 


i   in   i 


!i-l!' 


[Letter    1  /.] 


portance,  if  one  be  compelled  to  attend  to  it  every 
day  of  our  lives:  if  we  shaved  but  once  a  year,  or 
once  a  month,  the  execution  of  the  thing  would  be 
hardly  worth  naming :  but,  this  is  a  piece  of  work 
that  must  be  done  once  every  day ;  and,  as  it  may 
cost  only  about  Jive  minutes  of  time,  and  may  be, 
and  frequently  is,  made  to  cost  thirty^  or  even  fifty 
winutes;  and,  as  only  fifteen  minutes  make  about  a 
fifty-eighth  part  of  the  hours  of  our  average  day- 
light ;  this  being  the  case,  this  is  a  matter  of  real 
importance.    I  once  heard  Sir  John  Sinclair  ask 
Mr.  Cochrane  Johnstone,  whether  he  mcaned  to 
have  a  son  of  his  (then  a  little  boy)  taught  Latin  ? 
"  No,"  said  Mr.  Johnstone,  "  but  I  mean  to  do  some- 
thing a  great  deal  better  for  him."   "  What  is  that?" 
said  Sir  John.    "Why,"  said  the  other,  "  teach  him 
to  shave  with  cold  watei^  and  without  a  gla^s.^^  Which, 
I  dare  say,  he  did ;  and,  for  which  benefit,  I  am  sure 
that  son  has  had  good  reason  to  be  grateful.    Only 
think  of  the  inconvenience  attending  the  common 
practice!    There  must  be  hot  water;  to  have  this 
there  must  heafi>re,  and,  in  some  cases,  a  fire  for 
that  purpose  alone ;  to  have  these,  there  must  bo  a 
servant,  or  you  must  light  a  fire  yourself.    For  the 
want  of  these,  the  job  is  put  off  un,i!  a  later  hour: 
this  causes  a  stripping  ond  anotJier  dressing  bottt ; 
or,  you  go  in  a  slovenly  state  all  that  day,  and  the 
next  day  the  thing  must  be  done,  or  cleanliness  must 
be  abandoned  altogether.    If  you  be  on  a  journey 
you  must  wait  the  pleasure  of  the  servants  at  the 
mn  before  you  can  dress  and  set  out  in  the  morning; 
the  pleasant  time  for  travelling  is  gone  before  yoii 
can  move  from  the  spot ;  instead  of  being  at  the  end 
of  your  day's  journey  in  good  time,  you  are  benight- 
ed, and  have  to  endure  all  the  great  inconveniences 
attendant  on  tardy  movements.    And,  all  this,  from 
the  apparently  insignificant  affair  of  shaving !  How 
many  a  piece  of  important  business  has  failed  from 
a  short  delay !    And  how  many  thousand  of  siicli 
delays  daily  proceed   from  this  unworthy  cause' 
"  Tofujoiirs  pret'*'*  was  the  motto  of  a  famous  Frciicli 


I] 


J^ 


TO  A  VOUTH. 


3d 


may 

ay  i>p, 

11  ffly 
ooul  a 
e  day- 
of  real 
iiR  ask 
ned  to 
Latin  1 
)  some- 
1  thatT' '! 
ich  him 
Wliich, 
am  Bure 
.    Only 
;ommon 
ive  this 
fire  fbr^ 
ist  be  a 
For  the 
Thoiir: 
ig"  hold ; 
and  they 
!ss  m\ist 


general ;  and,  pray,  let  it  be  yours :  be  "  always  ready i^"* 
and  never,  during  your  whole  life,  have  to  say, 
*'  I  cannot  go  till  I  be  shaved  and  di'essed.''''  Do  the 
whole  at  once  for  the  day,  whatever  may  be  your 
state  of  life ;  and  then  you  have  a  day  unbroken  by 
those  indispensable  performances.  Begin  thus,  in 
the  days  of  your  youth,  aftd,  having  felt  the  supe- 
riority which  this  practice  will  give  you  over  those 
in  all  other  respects  your  equals,  the  practice  will 
stick  by  you  to  the  end  of  your  life.  Till  you  be 
shaved  and  dressed  for  the  day,  you  cannot  set  stea- 
|dily  about  any  business;  you  know  that  you  must 
presently  quit  your  labour  to  return  to  the  dressing 
i  affair ;  you,  therefore,  put  it  off  until  that  be  over ; 
the  interval,  the  precious  interval,  is  spent  in  loung- 
[ing  about;  and,  by  the  time  that  you  are  ready  for 
[business,  the  best  part  of  the  day  is  gone,  \ 

39.  Trifling  as  this  matter  appears  upon  naming  \ 
It,  it  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  great  concerns  of  life ;  and, 
for  my  part,  I  can  truly  say,  that  1  owe  more  of  my 
jreat  labours  to  my  strict  adherence  to  the  precepts 


\ 


[liat  I  have  here  given  you,  than  to  all  the  natural  \ 
bilities  with  which  I  have  been  endowed  ;  for  these, 
hatcver  may  have  been  their  amount,  would  have 
een  of  comparatively  little  use,  even  aided  by  great 
briety  and  abstinence,  if  I  had  not,  in  early  life, 
ntracted  the  blessed  habit  of  husbanding  well  my 
mc.^  To  this,  more  than  to  any  other  thing,  I  owed 
y  very  extraordinary  promotion  in  the  army.  I 
as  always  ready:  if  I  had  to  mount  guard  at  ten, 
was  ready  at  nine:  never  did  any  man,  or  any 
ing,  wait  one  moment  for  me.  Being,  at  an  age 
nder  twenty  years,  raised  from  Corporal  to  Sergeant 
"ajor  at  once,  over  the  heads  of  thirty  sergeants,  I 
aturally  should  have  been  an  object  of  envy  and 
atred ;  but  this  habit  of  early  rising  and  of  rigid 
Ihcrence  to  the  precepts  which  I  have  given  you, 
^ally  subdued  those  passions ;  because  every  one 
lit,  tliat  what  I  did  he  had  never  done,  and  never 
uld  do.  Before  my  promotion,  a  clerk  was  want- 
to  mak«  out  the  morniag  report  of  the  regiment. 


■J: 

■*1 


9i 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


'.f 


nil 


il  pi 


iiMir.i 


ill 


■  II:!    1 


l!  liH 


III  i 


iiiiii 


I; 


■  I  ',i;i  !!. 


i-li 


i 


l!il!i:| 


I  rendered  the  clerk  unnecesspry ;  and,  long  before 
any  other  man  was  dressed  for  the  parade,  my  work 
for  the  morning  was  all  done,  and  I  myself  was  on 
the  parade,  walking,  in  fine  weather,  for  an  hour 
perhaps.  My  custom  was  this :  to  get  up,  in  sum- 
mer, at  day-light,  and  in  winter  at  four  o'clock; 
shave,  dress,  even  to  the  putting  of  my  sword-belt 
over  my  shoulder,  and  having  my  sword  lying  on 
the  table  before  me,  ready  to  hang  by  my  side.  Then 
I  ate  a  bit  of  cheese,  or  pork,  and  bread.  Then  I 
prepared  my  report,  which  was  filled  up  as  fast  as 
the  companies  brought  me  in  the  materials.  After 
this  I  had  an  hour  or  two  to  read,  before  the  time 
came  fo^  any  duty  out  of  doors,  unless  when  the 
regiment  or  part  of  it  went  out  to  exercise  in  the 
morning.  When  this  was  the  case,  and  the  matter 
was  left  to  me,  I  always  had  it  on  the  ground  in 
such  time  as  that  the  bayonets  glistened  in  the  ri- 
sing' sun,  a  sight  which  gave  me  delight,  of  which  I 
often  think,  but  which  I  should  in  vain  endeavour  to 
describe.  If  the  officers  were  to  go  out,  eight  or  ten 
o'clock  was  the  hour,  sweating  the  men  in  the  heat 
of  the  day,  breaking  in  upon  the  time  for  cooking 
their  dinner,  putting  all  things  out  of  order,  and  all 
men  out  of  humour.  When  I  was  commander,  the 
men  had  a  long  day  of  leisure  before  them :  they 
could  ramble  into  the  town  or  into  the  woods ;  go 
to  get  raspberries,  to  catch  birds,  to  catch  fish,  or  to 
pursue  any  other  recreation,  and  such  of  them  as 
chose,  and  were  qualified,  to  work  at  their  trades. 
So  that  here,  arising  solely  from  the  early  habits  of 
one  very  young  man,  were  pleasant  and  happy  days 
given  to  hundreds. 

40.  Money  is  said  to  be  power,  which  is,  in  some 
cases,  true ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  knowledge; 
but  superior  sobriety,  industry  and  activity,  are  a  still 
more  certain  source  of  power ;  for  without  these, 
knowledge  is  of  little  use;  and,  as  to  the  power 
which  moiiey  gives,  it  is  that  of  brute  force,  it  is  the 
power  of  the  bludgeon  and  the  bayonet,  and  of  the 
bribed  press,  tongue  and  pen.    Superior  sobriety,] 


industi 

moden 

becaus( 

drunke 

fore  th 

whose  i 

whose  ( 

mediate 

ter  of  p 

ought  t( 

we  may 

even  dig 

the  care 

have  res 

you  mo 

active  th 

you  live, 

41.  As 

exclusive 

but,  edm 

speak  of 

famous  F 

ter  entitli 

Hon  oflh 

both  ian; 

Neither  h 

things  tai 

means  /a 

part4)f  u{ 

are  not  t< 

cannot  m; 

or  becaus 

marks  wh 

very  lean 

what  the 

them  com 

required  o 

own  calliii 

of  life  yoij 

be  your  fir 

a  new-tui 


1] 


TO   A  YOUTH. 


87 


lefore 
work 
as  on 
hour 
sum- 
!lock; 
•d-belt 
ng  on 
Then 
'hen  1 
fast  as 
After 
istime 
an  the 
in  the 
niatter 
)und  in 
the  ri- 
which  I 
,vour  to 
t  or  ten 
le  heat 
ooking 
and  all 
der,  the 
_    they 
)ds;  go 
,  or  to 
lem  as 
trades, 
abits  of 
)y  days 


industry,  activity,  though  accompanied  with  but  a 
moderate  portion  of  knowledge,  command  respect, 
because  they  have  great  and  visible  influence.  The 
drunken,  the  lazy,  and  the  inert,  stand  abashed  be- 
fore the  sober  and  the  active.  Besides,  all  those 
whose  interests  are  at  stake  prefer,  of  necessity,  those 
whose  exertions  produce  the  greatest  and  most  im- 
molate and  visible  cffc  ct.  Self-interest  is  no  respec- 
ter of  persons :  it  asks,  not  who  knows  best  what 
ouglit  to  be  done,  but  who  is  most  likely  to  do  it : 
we  may,  and  often  do,  admire  the  talents  of  lazy  and 
even  dissipated  men,  but  we  do  not  trust  them  with 
the  care  of  our  interests.  If,  therefore,  you  would 
have  respect  and  influence  in  the  circle  in  which 
you  move,  bo  nilore  sober,  more  industrious,  more 
si  active  than  the  general  run  of  those  amongst  whom 
you  live. 

41.  As  to  Education,  this  word  is  now  applied 
exclusively  to  things  which  are  taught  iu  schools ; 
but,  education  means  rearviff  up,  and  the  French 
speak  of  the  education  of  pi^s  and  sheep.  In  a  very 
famous  French  book  on  rural  affjiirs,  there  Is  a  Chap- 
ter entitled  "  Education  du  cochon ;"  that  is,  educa- 
ticm  of  the  Ivoff.  The  word  has  the  same  meaning  in 
both  languages ;  for,  both  take  it  from  the  Latin. 
Neither  is  the  word  learning  properly  confined  to 
things  taught  in  schools,  or  by  books ;  for,  lcarnit)i^- 
means  knowledge;  and,  but  a  comparatively  small 
partjof  useful  knowledge  comes  from  books.  Men 
are  not  to  be  called  ii^noranl  merely  because  they 
cannot  make  upon  paper  rcrtain  marks  with  a  pen, 
or  because  they  do  not  know  the  meaning  of  such 
marks  when  made  by  othtns.  A  ploughman  may  be 
very  learned  in  his  line,  though  he  docs  not  know 
what  the  letters  j).  I.  o.  u.£^.  h  mean  when  he  sees 
them  combined  upon  paper.  The  first  thing  to  be 
required  of  a  man  is,  tliat  he  understand  well  his 
own  calling,  or  prrfesaion ;  and,  be  you  in  what  state 
of  life  you  may,  to  acquh*e  this  knowledge  ought  to 
be  your  first  and  greatest  care.  A  man  who  has  had 
a  new-built  house  tumble  down,  will  derive  little 

4 


'I 


:i 


1 


■:i     ( 


38 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


■■|:''i 

•ill 


jjlil;!!!!'! 


Ill' 


II"     :'! 


'    ""llllllll 


il'!|i 


„.  .1  ii-i;  ,  ■ 


ill:!::' 


i  IfH 


Hill': 


tiK^rS  consolation  from  being  told  that  the  architect 
is  a  great  astronomer,  thaii  this  distressed  nation 
now  derives  from  being  assured  that  its  distresses 
arise  from  the  measures  of  a  long  list  of  the  greatest 
orators  and  greatest  heroes  that  the  world  ever  be- 
held. 

42.  Nevertheless,  book-learning  is  by  no  means  to 
be  despised  ;  and  it  is  a  thing  which  maybe  laudably 
sought  after  by  persons  in  all  states  of  life.  In  those 
pursuits  which  are  called  professio7hs,  it  is  necessary, 
and  also,  in  certain  trades;  and,  in  persons  in  the 
middle  ranks  of  life,  a  total  absence  of  such  learning 
is  somewhat  disgraceful.  There  is,  however,  one 
danger  to  b«  carefully  guarded  against ;  namely,  the 
opinion,  that  your  ^jiius,  or  your  literary  acquire- 
ments, are  such  as  to  warrant  you  in  disregarding 
the  calling  in  which  you  are,  and  by  which  you  gain 
your  bread.  Parents  must  have  an  uncommon  por- 
tion of  solid  sense  to  counterbalance  their  natural 
affection  sufficiently  to  make  them  competent  judges 
in  such  a  case.  Friends  are  partial ;  and  those  who 
are  not,  you  deem  enemies.  Stick,  therefore,  to  the 
shop  ;  rely  upon  your  mercantile  or  mechanical  or 
professional  calling ;  try  your  strength  in  literature, 
if  you  like ;  but,  j'dy  on  the  shop.  If  Bloomfield, 
who  wrote  a  poem  called  the  Farmer's  Boy,  had 
placed  no  reliance  on  the  faithless  muses,  his  unfor- 
tunate and  much  to  be  pitied  family  would,  in  all 
probability,  have  not  been  in  a  state  to  solicit  relief 
from  charity.  I  remember  that  this  loyal  shoema- 
ker was  flattered  to  the  skies,  and  (ominous  sign,  if 
he  had  understood  it)  feasted  at  the  tables  of  some 
of  the  great.  Have,  I  beseech  you,  no  hope  of  this 
sort :  and,  if  yon  find  it  creeping  towards  your  heart, 
drive  it  instantly  away  as  the  mortal  foe  of  your 
independence  and  your  peace. 

43.  With  this  precaution,  however,  book-learning 
is  not  only  proper,  but  highly  commendable ;  and 
portions  of  it  are  absolutely  necessary  in  every  case 
of  tra'e  or  profession.  One  of  these  portions  is  dis- 
tinct reading,  plain  and  neat  writing,  mx^arnthmelic, 


i 


f  i 


I] 


TO  A  YOUTH, 


39 


'ssary, 
in  the    *" 


is  (lis- 
hnieiic. 


The  two  former  are  mere  child's  work ;  the  latter 
not  quite  so  easily  acquired,  but  equally  indispen- 
sable, and  of  it  you  ought  to  have  a  thorough  know- 
ledge before  you  attempt  to  study  even  the  gram- 
mar of  your  own  language.  Arithmetic  is  soon  learn 
ed  j  it  is  not  a  thing  that  requires  much  natural  ta- 
lent; it  is  not  a  thing  that  loads  the  memory  or 
puzzles  the  mind ;  and,  it  is  a  thing  of  every-day 
utility.  Therefore,  this  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  an 
absolute  necessary;  an  indispensable  acquisition. 
Every  man  is  not  to  be  a  surveyor  or  an  actuary; 
and,  therefore,  you  may  stop  far  short  of  the  know- 
ledge, of  this  sort,  which  is  demanded  by  these  pro- 
fessions ;  but,  as  far  as  common  accounts  and  calcu- 
lations go,  you  ought  to  be  perfect ;  and  this  you  may 
make  yourself,  without  any  assistance  from  a  mps- 
ter,  by  bestowing  upon  this  science,  during  six 
months,  only  one  half  of  the  time  that  is,  by  per- 
sons of  your  age,  usually  wasted  over  the  tea-slops, 
or  other  kettle-slops,  alone  !  If  you  become  fond 
of  this  science,  there  may  be  a  little  danger  of 
wasting  your  time  on  it.  When,  therefore,  you  have 
got  as  much  of  it  as  your  business  or  profession  can 
possibly  render  necessary,  turn  the  time  to  some 
other  purpose.  As  to  hooks^  on  this  subject,  they 
are  in  every  body's  hand ;  but,  there  is  one  hook  on 
the  subject  of  calculations,  which  I  must  point  out 
to  you ;  "  The  Camrist,'*  by  Dr.  Kelly.  This  is  a 
bad4itle,  because,  to  men  in  general,  it  gives  no  idea 
of  what  the  book  treats  of.  It  is  a  book,  which  shows 
the  value  of  the  several  pieces  of  money  of  one 
country  when  stated  in  the  money  of  another  coun- 
try. For  instance,  it  tells  us  what  a  Spanish  Dollar, 
a  butch  Dollar,  a  French  Franc,  and  so  on,  is  worth 
in  English  money.  It  does  the  same  with  regard  to 
imf^hts  and  measures:  and  it  extends  its  information 
to  all  tlie  countries  in  the  world.  It  is  a  work  of  rare 
merit ;  and  every  youth,  be  his  state  of  life  what  it 
may,  if  it  permit  him  to  pursue  book-learning  of  any 
sort,  and  particularly  if  he  be  destined,  or  at  all  like- 
ly to  meddle  with  commercial  matters,  ought,  as  soon 


■?" 


■'I 


■I 


h 


H 


1 


II '■ 


40 


oobbbtt's  advice^ 


[Letter' 


ti 


I 


!^:;:iii 


111! 


'  hiJ!!';; 


m 


Ill 


as  convenient,  to  possess  this  valuable  and  instruc- 
tive book. 

44.  The  next  thing  is  the  Grammar  of  your  own 
language.  Without  understanding  this,  you  can 
never  hope  to  become  fit  for  any  thing  beyond  mere 
trade  or  agriculture.  It  is  true,  that  we  do  (God 
knows !)  but  too  often  see  men  have  great  wealth, 
high  titles,  and  boundless  power  heaped  upon  them, 
who  can  hardly  write  ten  lines  together  correctly  ; 
but,  remember,  it  is  not  merit  that  has  been  the  cause 
of  their  advancement ;  the  cause  has  been,  in  almost 
every  such  case,  the  subserviency  of  the  party  to  the 
will  of  some  government,  and  the  baseness  of  some 
nation  who  have  quietly  submitted  to  be  governed  by 
brazen  fools.  Do  not  you  imagine,  that  you  will 
have  luck  of  this  sort :  do  not  you  hope  to  be  re- 
warded and  honoured  for  that  ignorance  which  shall 
prove  a  scourge  to  your  country,  and  which  will  earn 
you  the  curses  of  the  children  yet  unborn.  Rely  you 
upon  your  merit,  and  upon  nothing  else.  Without 
a  knowledge  of  grammar,  it  is  impossible  for  you  to 
write  correctly,  and,  it  is  by  mere  accident  if  you 
speak  correctly ;  and,  pray  bear  in  mind,  that  all 
well-informed  persons  judge  of  a  man's  mind  (until 
they  have  other  means  of  judging)  by  his  writing  or 
speaking.  The  labour  necessary  to  acquire  this 
knowledge  is,  indeed,  not  trifling :  grammar  is  not, 
like  arithmetic,  a  science  consisting  of  several  dis- 
tinct departments,  some  of  which  may  be  dispensed 
with:  it  is  a  whole,  and  the  whole  must  be  learned, 
or,  no  part  is  learned.  The  subject  is  abstruse 4  it 
demands  much  reflection  and  much  patience :  but, 
when  once  the  task  is  performed,  it  is  performed /or 
life,  and  in  every  day  of  that  life  it  will  be  found  to 
be,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  a  source  of  pleasure 
or  of  profit  or  of  both  together.  And,  what  is 
the  labour  ?  It  consists  of  no  bodily  exertion ;  it 
exposes  the  student  to  no  cold,  no  hunger,  no  suffer- 
ings of  any  sort.  The  study  need  subtract  from 
the  hours  of  no  business,  nor,  indeed,  from  the  hours 
©f  neowwary  exercise :  the  hours  usually  spent  on 


I 


the  tea 
accomj 
year,  e 
would 
rest  of 
study  i 
stances 
a  privat 
edge  of 
seat  to 
a  bit  of 
and  the 
my  life, 
in  v/mte 
ing-ligh 
of  that, 
without  ] 
accompli 
tliere  be  i 
ed  with 
room  or 
she  n  of  ] 
tion  of  f< 
I  had  no 
and  I  had 
laughing, 
naif  a  sc( 
that,  too, 
control.  ^ 
to  give,  n( 
farthing  v 
as  I  am  n( 
The  whol( 
market,  w 
member,  s 
after  all  a 
Friday,  m: 
which  I  hi 
rinff  in  tl 
clothes  at  1 
to  endure  ] 


1.1 


TO   A   YOUTH.    4x 


41 


the  tea  aud  coffee  slops  and  inth  ^  mere  gossip  wliicli 
accompany  them  ;  those  wasted  hours  of  only  one 
year^  employed  in  the  study  of  English  grammar, 
would  make  you  a  correct  speaker  and  writer  for  the 
rest  of  your  life.  You  want  no  school,  no  room  to 
study  in,  no  expenses,  and  no  troublesome  circum- 
stances of  any  sort.  I  learned  grammar  when  I  was 
a  private  soldier  on  the  pay  of  sixpence  a  day.  The 
edge  of  my  berth,  or  that  of  the  guard-bed,  was  my 
seat  to  study  in  ;  my  knapsack  was  my  book-case ; 
a  bit  of  board,  lying  on  my  lap,  was  my  writing-table; 
and  the  task  did  not  demand  any  thing  like  a  year  of 
my  life.  I  had  no  money  to  purchase  candle  or  oil ; 
in  winter-time  it  was  rarely  that  I  could  get  any  even- 
ing light  but  that  of  the  fire,  and  only  my  turn  even 
of  that.  And,  if  I,  under  such  circumstances,  and 
without  parent  or  friend  to  advise  or  encourage  me, 
accomplished  this  undertaking,  what  excuse  can 
there  be  for  any  youth,  however  poor,  however  press- 
ed with  business,  or  however  circumstanced  as  to 
room  or  other  conveniences  ?  To  buy  a  pen  or  a 
she  ft  of  paper  I  was  compelled  to  forego  some  por- 
tion of  food,  though  in  a  state  of  half  starvation ; 
I  had  no  moment  of  time  that  I  could  call  my  own ; 
and  I  had  to  read  and  to  write  amidst  the  talking, 
laughing,  singing,  whistling  and  brawling  of  at  least 
half  a  score  of  the  most  thoughtless  of  men,  and 
that,  too,  in  the  hours  of  their  freedom  from  all 
control.  Think  not  lightly  of  the  farthing  that  I  had 
to  give,  now  and  then,  for  ink,  pen,  or  paper !  That 
farthing  was,  alas  !  a  great  sum,  to  me  !  I  was  as  tall 
as  I  am  now ;  I  had  great  health  and  great  exercise. 
The  whole  of  the  money,  not  expended  for  us  at 
market,  was  two-pence  a  week  for  each  man.  I  re- 
member, and  well  I  may !  that,  upon  one  occasion  I, 
after  all  absolutely  necessary  expenses,  had,  on  a 
Friday,  made  shift  to  have  a  half-penny  in  reserve, 
which  I  had  destined  for  the  purchase  of  a  red-her- 
rmg  in  the  morning;  but,  when  I  pulled  off  my 
clothes  at  night,  so  hungry  then  as  to  be  hardly  able 
to  endure  life,  I  found  that  I  had  lost  my  halffcnny! 

4* 


(''! 


r  4 


f^ 


1: 

.  ■■* 


■u) 


ii 


,4  I.- v..  I 


■    % 


cobdett's  advice 


;    ratter 


ii  I 


III  ii 


■';vl 

iilii) 


'■lip  ' 

m 

4Si 


\m  'X 


I  >!.''' 


I!* 


ill     ! 


,  I  burled  my  head  under  the  miserable  sheet  and  rug, 
and  cried  like  a  child !  And,  again  I  say,  if  I,  under 
circumstances  hke  these,  could  encounter  and  over- 
come this  task,  is  there,  can  there  be,  in  the  whole 
world,  a  youth  to  find  an  excuse  for  the  non-per- 
formance ?  What  youth,  who  shall  read  this,  will 
not  be  ashamed  to  say,  that  he  is  not  able  to  find 
time  and  opportunity  for  this  most  essential  of  all  the 
branches  of  book-learning  ? 

45.  I  press  this  matter  with  such  earnestness,  be- 
cause a  knowledge  of  grammar  is  the  foundation  of 
all  literature ;  and  because  without  this  knowledge 
opportunities  for  writing  and  speaking  are  only  oc- 
casions for  men  to  display  their  unfitness  to  write 
and  speak.  How  many  false  pretenders  to  erudition 
have  I  exposed  to  shame  merely  by  my  knowledge 
of  grammar !  How  many  of  the  insolent  and  igno- 
rant great  and  powerful  have  I  pulled  down  and 
made  little  and  despicable!  And,  with  what  ease 
have  I  conveyed  upon  numerous  important  subjects, 
information  and  instruction  to  millions  now  alive, 
and  provided  a  store  of  both  for  millions  yet  unborn ! 
As  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  this  great  under- 
taking, it  is,  first,  to  read  the  grammar  from  the  first 
word  to  the  last,  very  attentively,  several  times  over ; 
then,  to  copy  the  whole  of  it  very  correctly  and 
neatly ;  and  then  to  study  the  Chapters  one  by  one. 
And  what  does  this  reading  and  writing  require  as 
to  time  ?  Both  together  not  more  than  the  tea-slops 
and  their  gossips  for  three  months !  There  are  about 
three  hundred  pages  in  my  English  Grammar.  Four 
of  those  little  pages  in  a  day,  which  is  a  mere  trifle 
of  work,  do  the  thing  in  three  wxmths.  Two  hours 
a  day  are  quite  sufficient  for  the  purpose ;  and  these 
may,  in  any  town  that  I  have  ever  known,  or  in  any 
village,  be  taken  from  that  part  of  the  morning  du- 
ring which  the  main  part  of  the  people  are  in  bed. 
I  do  not  like  the  evening-candle-light  work :  it  wears 
the  eyes  much  more  than  the  same  sort  of  light  in 
the  morning,  because  then  the  faculties  are  in  vigour 
and  wholly  unexhausted.  But  for  this  purpose  there 


rareness 


* 


I.]  ^'  '-;     '  TO  A  YOUTH.     .     *       '  43 

is  sufficient  of  that  day-light  which  is  usually  wast- 
ed ;  usually  gossipped  or  lounged  away ;  or  spent 
in  some  other  manner  productive  of  no  pleasure, 
and  generally  producing  pain  in  the  end.  It  is  very 
becoming  in  all  persons,  and  particularly  in  the 
young,  to  be  civil  and  even  polite :  but,  it  becomes 
neither  young  nor  old  to  have  an  everlasting  simper 
on  their  faces,  and  their  bodies  sawing  in  an  ever- 
lasting bow:UndJiQa:,BMiny  have  lj§§n 

(wh9j|jaiSi.M 

'I  a  tenth  partojLthe  time  that  Jhsy^  have^constittieijjii 

\^earningmeial£iamt(E^^ 
wouH-hayjgLlaui-ihfi^nndation  of  sincere-respegj.. 

towards.  thfiuaXor  the^jiafejajCJM^ 

46.  Perseverdi^eXs^a.  prime  quality  in  every  pur- 
suit, and  particularly  in  this.  Yours  is,  too,  the 
time  of  life  to  acquire  this  inestimable  habit.  Men 
fail  much  oftener  from  want  of  perseverance  than 
from  want  of  talent  and  of  good  disposition :  as  the 
race  was  not  to  the  hare  but  to  the  tortoise ;  so  the 
meed  of  success  in  study  is  to  him  who  is  not  in 
haste,  but  to  him  who  proceeds  with  a  steady  and 
even  step.  li  is  not  to  a  want  of  taste  or  of  desire 
or  of  disposition  to  learn  that  we  have  to  ascribe  the 
rareness  of  good  scholars,  so  much  as  to  the  want 
of  patient  perseverance.  Grammar  is  a  branch  of 
knowledge,  like  all  other  things  of  high  value,  it  is 
of  difficult  acquirement:  the  study  is  dry;  the  sub- 
ject is  intricate ;  it  engages  not  the  passions ;  and,  if 
thc^^rgai  end  be  not  kept  constantly  in  view  j  if  you 
lose,  for  a  moment,  sight  of  the  am/ple  reward,  in- 
difference begins,  that  is  followed  by  weariness,  and 
disgust  and  despair  close  the  book.  To  guard  against 
this  result  be  not  in  haste;  keep  steadily  on;  and, 
when  you  find  weariness  approaching,  rouse  youiv- 
self,  and  remember,  that,  if  you  give  up,  all  that  you 
have  done  has  been  done  in  vain.  This  is  a  matter 
of  great  moment;  for  out  of  every  ten,  who  under- 
take this  task,  there  are,  perhaps,  nine  who  abandon 
It  in  despair ;  and  this,  too,  merely  for  the  want  of 
resolution  to  overcome  the  first  approaches  of  wea- 


:\ii 


11 


t. 


in 


mi"' 


44 


OOBBETTS   ADVICE 


rl'v  .  I 


liii 


mm 


Dim  I 


MWW'V 

WmW  i 


hi        ,1 


■!  ' 


M.v!  :m  ; 


l;i'i 


I  i  .;  II! 


1 1 
iliiiiH 


I!!  '        i 


[Letter    m  i,j 


riness.  The  most  effectual  means  of  security  against 
this  mortifying  result  is  to  lay  down  a  rule  to  write 
or  to  read  a  certain  fixed  quantity  every  day,  Sunday 
excepted.  Our  minds  are  not  always  in  the  same 
state ;  they  have  not,  at  all  times,  the  same  elastici- 
ty ;  to-day  we  are  full  of  hope  on  the  very  same 
grounds,  which,  to-morrow,  afford  us  no  hope  at 
all:  every  human  being  is  liable  to  those  flows  and 
ebbs  of  the  mind ;  but,  if  reason  interfere,  and  bid 
you  overcome  the  Jits  of  lassitude,  and  almost  me- 
chanically to  go  on  without  the  stimulus  of  hope, 
the  buoyant  fit  speedil)'^  returns;  you  congratulate 
yourself  that  you  did  not  yield  to  the  temptation  to 
abandon  your  pursuit,  and  you  proceed  with  more 
vigour  than  ever.  Five  or  six  triumphs  over  temp- 
tation to  indolence  or  despair  lay  the  foundation  of 
certain  success ;  and,  what  is  of  still  more  impor- 
tance, fix  in  you  the  habit  ofper'severance. 

47.  If  I  have  bestowed  a  large  portion  of  my  space 
on  this  topic,  it  has  been  because  I  know,  from  ex- 
I)erience  as  well  as  from  observation,  that  it  is  of 
more  importance  than  all  the  other  branches  of  book- 
learning  put  together.  It  gives  you,  when  you  pos- 
sess it  thoroughly,  a  real  and  practical  superiority 
over  the  far  greater  part  of  men.  How  often  did  I 
experience  this  even  long  before  I  became  what  is 
called  an  author !  The  Adjutant,  under  whom  it 
was  my  duty  to  act  when  I  was  a  Sergeant  Major, 
was,  as  almost  all  military  oflScers  are,  or,  at  least 
were,  a  very  illiterate  man,  perceiving  that  every 
sentence  of  mine  was  in  the  same  form  and  manner 
as  sentences  in  print,  became  shy  of  letting  me  see 
pieces  of  his  writing.  The  writing  of  (yrders,  and 
other  things,  therefore,  fell  to  me ;  and  thus,  though 
no  nominal  addition  was  made  to  my  pay,  and  no 
nominal  addition  to  my  authority,  I  acquired  the  lat- 
ter as  effectually  as  if  a  law  had  been  passed  to  con- 
fer it  upon  me.  In  short,  I  owe  to  the  possession 
of  this  branch  of  knowledge  every  thing  that  has 
enabled  me  to  do  so  many  things  that  very  few  other 
men  have  done^  and  that  now  gives  me  a  degree  of 


V*: 


etier 


I] 


TO  A  TOUTH. 


46 


ainst 
Arrite 
nday 
same 
stici- 
same  ,. 
pe  at 
s  and 
A  bid 
t  me- 
hope, 
ilulale  , 
tioii  to  \ 
I  more  ' 
tenip- 
tion  of 
impor- 

y  space 
■om  ex- 
it is  of 
ff  y)ook- 
»u  pos- 
iriority  i 
XI  did  I 
hat  is 
hom  it 
Major, 
lat  least 
every 
lamier 
e  see 
''s,  and 
Jthougli 
land  no 
Ithelat- 
to  con- 
session 
lat  has 
other 
free  of 


influence,  such  as  is  possessed  by  few  others,  in  the 
most  weighty  concerns  of  the  country.  The  pos- 
session of  this  branch  of  knowledge  raises  you  in 
your  own  esteem,  gives  just  confidence  in  yourself, 
and  prevents  you  from  being  the  willing  slave  of  the 
rich  and  the  titled  part  of  thecommunity.  It  enables 
you  to  discover  that  riches  and  titles  do  not  confer 
merit ;  you  think  comparatively  little  of  them ;  and, 
as  far  as  relates  to  you,  at  any  rate,  their  insolence  is 
innoxious. 

48.  Hoping  that  I  have  said  enough  to  induce  you 
to  set  resolutely  about  the  study  o{  grammar,  I 
might  here  leave  the  subject  of  learning ;  arithme- 
tic and  grammar,  both  well  learned,  being  as  much 
as  I  would  wish  in  a  mere  youth.  But  these  need 
not  occupy  the  whole  of  your  spare  time ;  and,  there 
are  other  branches  of  learning  which  ought  imme- 
diately to  follow.  If  your  own  calling  or  profession 
require  book-study,  books  treating  of  that  are  to  be 
preferred  to  all  others;  for,  the  first  thing,  the  first 
I  object  in  life,  is  to  secure  the  honest  means  of  ob- 
Itaining  sustenance,  raiment,  and  a  state  of  being 
suitable  to  your  rank,  be  that  rank  what  it  may ;  ex- 
[cellence  in  your  own  calling  is,  therefore,  the  first 
thing  to  be  aimed  at.  After  this  may  come  general 
^mmioledge,  and  of  this,  the  first  is  a  thorough  know- 
ledge of  your  own  country  ;  for,  how  ridiculous  is  it 
to  see  an  English  youth  engaged  in  reading  about 
the  customs  of  the  Chinese,  or  of  the  Hindoos,  while 
lie  is  content  to  be  totally  ignorant  of  those  of  Kent 
)r  of  Cornwall !  Well  employed  he  must  be  in  as- 
certaining how  Greece  was  divided  and  how  the  Ro- 
lans  parcelled  out  their  territory,  while  he  knows 
lot,  and,  apparently,  does  not  want  to  know,  how 
Ingland  came  to  be  divided  into  counties,  hundreds, 
►arishes  and  tithings. 
49.  Geography  npturally  follows  Grammar ;  and, 
rou  should  begin  with  that  of  this  kingdom,  which 
JQW  ought  to  understand  well,  [perfectly  well,  before 
rou  venture  to  look  abroad.  A  rather  slight  know- 
edge  of  the  divisions  and  customs  of  other  countries 

.    \ 


t  : 


Tl' 


1 
•i 

■  * 

■A 


f> 

i  I 

1' 

\ 

m 

'I  u 


46 


COBBETT*S  ADVICE 


I  Letter 


i:  '!"    i 


■    ,1  '  ''Mi 


ml 


'  1  'liilii    !  I ' 


Is,  generally  speaking,  sufficient ;  but,  not  to  know 
these  full  well,  as  far  as  relates  to  our  own  country, 
is,  in  one  who  pretends  to  be  a  gentleman  or  a  scho- 
lar, somewhat  disgraceful.  Yet,  how  many  men  are 
there,  and  those  called  gentlemen  too,  who  seem  to 
think  that  counties  and  parishes,  and  churches  and 
parsons,  and  tithes  and  glebes,  and  manors  and 
courts-leet,  and  'paupers  and  poor-houses,  all  grew 
up  in  England,  or  dropped  down  upon  it,  immedi- 
ately after  Noah's  flood !  Surely,  it  is  necessary  for 
every  man,  having  any  pretensions  to  scholarship, 
to  know  how  tJiese  tlmigs  came  ;  and,  the  sooner  this 
knowledge  is  acquired  the  better ;  for,  until  it  be 
acquired  you  read  the  history  of  your  country  in 
vain.  Indeed,  to  communicate  this  knowledge  is 
one  main  part  of  the  business  of  history ;  but  it  is 
a  part  which  no  historian,  commonly  so  called,  has, 
that  I  know  of,  ever  yet  performed,  except,  in  part, 
myself,  in  the  History  of  the  Protestant  Refor- 
mation. I  had  read  Hume's  History  of  England  and 
the  Continuation  by  Smollett  ;  but,  in  1802,  when 
I  wanted  to  write  on  the  subject  of  the  non-residence  j 
of  the  clergy,  I  found,  to  my  great  mortification,  that  j 
i  knew  nothing  of  the  foundation  of  the  office  and 
the  claims  of  the  parsons,  and  that  I  could  not  even 
guess  at  the  origin  of  parishes.  This  gave  anew 
turn  to  my  inquiries ;  and  I  soon  found  the  roman- 
cers, called  historians,  had  given  me  no  information 
that  I  could  rely  on,  and,  besides,  had  done,  appa- 
rently, all  they  could  to  keep  me  in  the  dark. 

50.  Wlien  you  come  to  History,  begin  also  with 
that  of  your  own  country  ;  and  here  it  is  my  bouiii 
den  duty  to  put  you  well  mi  your  guard  ;  for,  in  tliis ' 
respect  we  are  peculiarly  imforixmviie,  and  for  llie 
following  reasons,  to  which  I  beg  you  to  attend. 
Three  hundred  years  ago,  the  religion  of  England 
had  been,  during  nine  hundred  years,  the  Oatliolio 
religion :  the  Catholic  Clergy  possessed  about  a  third 
part  of  all  the  lands  and  houses,  which  they  held/« 
trust  for  their  own  support,  for  the  building  and  re^ 
pairing  of  churches^  and  for  the  relief  of  the  poor,  1 


the  wid( 

time  jus 

changed 

of  the  c 

own  'pro 

building 

of  the  p( 

ed  partly 

ih^  most 

series  of 

day  to  thi 

was  for  \ 

that,  befot 

the  most  i 

with  his  fc 

I  yrinting  \ 

I  little  und( 

change  to 

former  tin 

I  sides,  even 

[ed  with  g 

j change  an 

land  the  e 

Icalled,  hav 

[have  been  i 

Iboth  at  the 


i  I, 
ii, 


■r 


)  J 


Lnow 
ntry, 
scho- 
mave 
em  to  ' 
!S  and 
i   and 
grew 
imedi- 
iry  for 
irship, 
or  this 
il  it  be 
iitry  in 
;dge  is 
tt  it  is 
[jd,  has, 
in  part, 
Refor- 
and  and 
J,  when 

on,  that 
fice  and 
lOt  even 

a  new 
voman-  \ 

matioii 
P,  appa-; 

Iso  witlii 
ly  bouii- 1 
[-,  inthis' 
for  llie, 
attend.! 
England 
?.alholio 
It  a  third 
held  in 
mid  )'c 
le  poor, 


r] 


TO  A  YOUTH. 


47 


the  widow,  the  orphan  and  the  stranger;  but,  at  the 
time  just  mentioned,  the  king  and  the  aristocracy 
changed  the  rehgion  to  Protestant^  took  the  estates 
of  the  church  and  the  poor  to  themselves  as  their 
own  property^  and  tooled  the  people  ai  large  for  the 
buildmg  and  repairing  of  churches  -xud  for  the  relief 
of  the  poor.  This  great  and  terriOie  change,  effect- 
ed partly  by  force  against  the  people  and  partly  by 
the  most  artful  means  of  deception,  gave  rise  to  a 
series  of  efforts,  which  has  been  continued  from  that 
day  to  this  J  to  cause  us  all  to  believe,  th^t  that  change 
was  for  t/ie  better,  that  it  was  for  owr  good;  and 
tiiat,  before  that  time,  our  forefathers  were  a  set  of 
the  most  miserable  slaves  that  the  sun  ever  warmed 
with  his  beams.  It  happened,  too,  that  the  art  of 
printing  was  not  discovered,  or,  at  least,  it  was  very 
little  understood,  until  about  the  time  when  this 
j change  took  place;  so  that  the  books  relating  to 
j  former  times  were  confined  to  manuscript ;  and,  be- 
I  sides,  even  these  manuscript  libraries  were  destroy- 
ied  with  great  care  by  those  who  had  made  the 
change  and  had  grasped  the  property  of  the  poor 
and  the  church.  Our  " //i«iorta?is,"  as  they  are 
Icalled,  have  written  under  fear  of  the  powerful,  or 
[have  been  bribed  by  them ;  and,  generally  speaking, 
|both  at  the  same  time ;  and,  accordingly,  their  works 
ire,  as  far^as  they  relate  to  former  times,  masses  of 
lies  unmatched  by  any  others  that  the  world  has 
jver  seen. 

51."  The  great  object  of  these  lies  always  has  been 
lo  make  the  main  body  of  the  people  believe,  that 
the  nation  is  now  more  happy,  more  populous,  more 
jowerful,  tJian  it  was  before  it  was  Protestant,  and 
iiiereby  to  induce  us  to  conclude,  that  it  was  a  good 
l/iM^  for  us  that  the  aristocracy  should  take  to 
pieiiiselves  the  property  of  the  poor  and  the  church, 
Mid  make  the  people  at  large  pay  taxes  for  the  sup- 
wH  of  both.  This  has  been,  and  still  is,  the  great 
^bject  of  all  those  heaps  of  lies ;  and  those  lies  are 
piiliruially  spread  about  amongst  us  in  all  forms  of 
Hiblicalion,  from  heavy  folios  down  to  half-penny 


J*??* 


I* 


■0 


A,-ij|V*' 


■■•>■ 

■* 

'^i 


Wi^.' 


['i- 


lip: 


'i-  n 


iiiiii 


Hi  m 


MA 


w 


I     ■  ;i 


11 
llllil 


il!> 

;|iil'i|| 


wwimwi 


|l   < 
III  'i 


i    ii 


*m 


II 


•■4b 


48 


oobbbtt's  advice  ' 


tracts.  In  refutation  of  those  lies  we  have  only  vjry 
few  and  rare  ancient  books  to  refer  to,  and  their  in- 
formation is  incidental,  seeing  that  their  authors 
never  dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  the  lying  gene- 
rations which  were  to  come.  We  have  the  ancient 
acts  of  parliament,  the  common-law,  the  customs, 
the  canons  of  the  church,  and  tfw  churches  them- 
selves ;  but  these  demand  analyses  and  argument^ 
and  they  demand  also  a  really  free  press^  and  un- 
prejudiced  and  patient  7'eadcrs.  Never  in  this  world, 
before,  had  truth  to  struggle  with  so  many  and  such 
great  disadvantages ! 

52.  To  refute  lies  is  not,  at  present,  my  business ; 
but  it  is  my  business  to  give  you,  in  as  small  a  com 
pass  as  possible,  one  striking  proof  that  they  are 
lies ;  and,  thereby,  to  put  you  well  upon  your  guard 
for  the  whole  of  the  rest  of  your  life.  The  opinion 
sedulously  inculcated  by  these  "  historians'*^  is  this; 
that  before  the  Protestant  times  came,  England  was, 
comparatively,  an  insignificant  country,  haviftw  few 
people  in  it,  and  those  few  wretchedly  poor  and  misc.- 
7'able.  Now,  take  the  following  undeniable  facts. 
All  the  parishes  in  England  are  now  (except  where 
they  have  been  united,  and  two,  three,  or  four,  luive 
been  made  into  one)  in  point  of  size,  what  they 
were  a  thousand  years  ago.  The  county  of  Norfolk 
is  the  best  cultivated  of  any  one  in  England.  Thih 
county  has  m/u?  731  parishes;  and  the  number  \va> 
formerly  greater.  Of  these  parishes,  22  have  im- 
no  churches  at  all ;  74  contain  less  than  100  soul? 
each :  and  268  have  no  pa7'sonage-hmcses.  Nov, 
observe,  every  parish  had,  in  old  times,  a  church  and 
a  parsonage-house.  The  county  contains  2,0{>^ 
square  miles ;  that  is  to  say,  something  less  than  3 
square  miles  to  each  parish,  and  that  is  1,920  statute 
acres  of  land ;  and  the  size  of  each  parish  is,  on  nii 
average,  that  of  a  piece  of  ground  about  one  niilr 
and  a  half  each  way ;  so  that  the  churches  are,  evni 
now,  on  an  average,  only  about  a  wile  and  a  Jwij 
from  each  other.  Now,  the  qurslions  for  jou  to  put 
loyoursdl'  are  these;  Were  churches  fornuTly  built 


Letter 

rviiry 
eir  in- 
Lithors 

gene- 
ncient 
stoms, 

them- 
umeni^ 
lid  un- 
world, 
id  such 


sincss ; 
acom- 
ley  are 
r  guard 
opinion 
is  this; 
nd  was, 
hi<sf  few 
id  mise- 
\c  facts. 
t  where 
ir,  have 
at  tliey 
orfulk 
This 
Ijer  Wdi" 
we  noir 
souls 
Now, 
Irch  aiitl 

2,mi 

than  3 

statute 
,  on  .111 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


40 


and  kept  up  without  being  wanted,  and  especially  by 
a  poor  and  miserable  people  ?  Did  these  miserable 
people  build  74  churches  out  of  731,  each  of  which 
74  had  not  a  hundred  souls  belonging  to  it  ?  Is  it  a 
sign  of  an  augmented  population,  that  22  churches 
out  of  731  have  tumbled  down  and  been  effaced  ? 
Was  it  a  country  thinly  inhabited  by  miserable  peo- 
ple that  could  build  and  keep  a  church  in  every 
piece  of  ground  a  mile  and  a  half  each  way,  besides 
having,  in  this  same  county,  77  monastic  establish- 
ments and  142  free  chapels  1  Is  it  a  sign  of  aug- 
mented population,  ease  and  plenty,  that,  out  of  731 
parishes,  268  have  suffered  the  parsonage-houses  to 
fall  into  ruins,  and  their  sites  to  become  patches  of 
nettles  and  of  brambles  ?  Put  these  questions  calmly 
to  yourself:  common  sense  will  dictate  the  answers; 
and  truth  will  call  for  an  expression  of  your  indig- 
nation against  the  lying  historians  and  the  still  more 
lying  population  mongers. 


»e 


niiif" 

1*0,  evTii 

a  ho'ljl 

li  to  put 

lly  built 


LETTER  II. 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


.53.  In  the  foregoing  letter  I  have  given  my  ad- 
vice to  a  Youth.  In  addressing  myself  to  you,  I  am 
to  presume  that  you  have  entered  upon  your  present 
stage  of  life,  having  acted  upon  the  precepts  con- 
tained in  that  letter  ;  and  that,  of  course,  you  are  a 
sober,  abstinent,  industrious  and  well-informed 
young  man.  In  the  succeeding  letters,  which  will 
be  addressed  to  the  Lover,  the  Husba^id,  the  FatJier, 
and  the  Citizen,  I  shall,  of  course,  have  to  include 
my  notion  of  your  duties  as  a  master,  and  as  a  person 
employed  by  another.  In  the  present  letter,  there- 
fore, I  shall  confine  myself  principally  to  the  con- 

5 


i 

?3 


■^'  f 


I.  i 


r 


(„  ^*' 


t  5  .1 


y      \\ 


mM 


50 


COBBETT  S  ADVICE 


LLciier 


|i  Jill:   ' "' 


t 


I!i  liii' 


lil 

il-ii 


rl!' 


l.'i,.-;  ,  . 

■  iii;''' 

tcUlli 

!i' 

duct  of  a  young  man  with  regard  to  the  manage- 
ment of  his  means,  or  money. 

54.  Be  you  in  what  line  of  life  you  may,  it  will 
be  amongst  your  misfortunes  if  you  have  not  time 
properly  to  attend  to  this  matter ;  for  it  very 
frequently  happens,  it  has  happened  to  thousands 
upon  thousands,  not  only  to  be  ruined,  according  to 
the  common  acceptation  of  the  word  ;  not  only  to 
be  made  poor,  and  to  suffer  from  poverty,  in  conse- 
quence of  want  of  attention  to  pecuniary  matters ; 
but  it  has  frequently,  and  even  generally  happened, 
that  a  want  of  attention  to  these  matters  has  impe- 
ded the  progress  of  science,  and  of  genius  itself.  A 
man,  oppressed  with  pecuniary  cares  and  dangers, 
must  be  next  to  a  miracle,  if  he  have  his  mind  in  a 
state  fit  for  intellectual  labours ;  to  say  nothing  of 
the  temptations,  arising  from  such  distress,  to  aban- 
don good  principles,  to  suppress  useful  opinions  and 
useful  facts ;  and,  in  short,  to  become  a  disgrace  to  his 
kindred,  and  an  evil  to  his  country,  instead  of  being 
an  honour  to  the  former  and  a  blessing  to  the  latter. 
To  be  poor  and  independent  is  very  nearly  an  im- 
possibility. 

55.  But,  then,  poverty  is  not  a  positive,  but  a  re- 
lative term.  Burke  observed,  and  very  truly,  that 
a  labourer  who  earned  a  sufficiency  to  maintain  him 
as  a  labourer,  and  to  maintain  him  in  a  suitable  man- 
ner ;  to  give  him  a  sufficiency  of  good  food,  of 
clothing,  of  lodging,  and  of  fuel,  ought  not  to  be  called 
a  poor  man :  for  that,  though  he  had  little  riches, 
though  his,  compared  with  that  of  a  lord,  was  a 
state  of  poverty,  it  was  not  a  state  of  poverty  in 
itself.  When,  therefore,  I  say  that  poverty  is  the 
cause  of  a  depression  of  spirit,  of  inactivity  and  of 
servility  in  men  of  literary  talent,  I  must  say,  at 
the  same  time,  that  the  evil  arises  from  their  own 
fault;  from  their  having  created  for  themselves 
imaginary  wants ;  from  their  having  indulged  in 
unnecessary  enjoyments,  and  from  their  having 
caused  that  to  be  poverty,  which  would  not  havo 
been  poverty,  if  they  had  been  moderate  in  their 
enjoyments. 


56.  A 

to  live  I 
proceed 
other  st; 
idea  of ; 
talent,  ci 
himself 
he  kno\^ 
must  det 
Mr.  WiL 
maker  ai 
to  schoo 
of  a  gem 

COOKSON 

whipper 
was  a  mj 
nal  knov^ 
soul,  the 
mongerir 
system 
wants ; 
rich  and 
had  beer 
when,  in 
choose  b 
and  a  loc 
side,  and 
man,  on 
became  tl 
newspape 
than  all  t 
the  miser 
every  thi 
deplored 
dishes,  the 
sinecure  i 
him  329/  j 
lottery  ga 
period,  hir 
him  perha 
riageforsf 


ill 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


51 


lage- 

Lwill 
time 
very 
sands 
ng  to 
ilyto   ' 
ORse- 
Iters ; 
lened, 
impe- 
If.    A 
rtgers, 
d  ilia 
ingof 
aban- 
is  and 
1  to  his 
'  being 
latter, 
in  im- 

t  a  re- 
that 
n  him 
man- 
od,  of 
called 
riches, 
was  a 
rty  in 
is  the 
and  of 
say,  at 
ir  own 
iselves 
ged  in 
having 
it  hava 
their 


I 


> 


|3 


66.  As  it  may  be  your  lot  (such  has  been  mine) 
to  live  by  your  literary  talent,  I  will,  here,  before  I 
proceed  to  matter  more  applicable  to  persons  in 
other  states  of  life,  observe,  that  1  cannot  form  an 
idea  of  a  mortal  more  wretched  than  a  man  of  real 
talent,  compelled  to  curb  his  genius,  and  to  submit 
himself  in  the  exercise  of  that  genius,  to  those  whom 
he  knows  to  be  far  inferior  to  himself,  and  whom  he 
must  despise  froir  '^-^  bottom  of  his  soul.  The  late 
Mr.  William  Gi  >k  who  was  the  son  of  a  shoe- 
maker at  Ashbukio.>  ill  Devonshire;  who  was  put 
to  school  and  sent  to  the  university  at  the  expense 
of  a  generous  and  good  clergyman  of  the  name  of 
CooKsoN,  and  wlio  died,  the  other  day,  a  sort  of 
whipper-in  of  Murray's  Quarterly  Review  ;  this 
was  a  man  of  real  genius  j  and,  to  my  certain  perso- 
nal knowledge,  he  detested,  from  the  bottom  of  his 
soul,  the  whole  of  the  paper-money  and  borough- 
mongering  system,  and  despised  those  by  whom  the 
system  was  carried  on.  But  he  had  imaginary 
wants ;  he  had  been  bred  up  in  company  with  the 
rich  and  the  extravagant :  expensive  indulgences 
had  been  made  necessary  to  him  by  habit;  and 
when,  in  the  year  1798,  or  thereabouts,  he  had  to 
choose  between  a  bit  of  bacon,  a  scrag  of  mutton, 
and  a  lodging  at  ten  shillings  a  week,  on  the  one 
side,  and  made-dishes,  wine,  a  fine  house,  and  a  foot- 
man, on  the  other  side,  he  chose  the  latter.  He 
became  the  servile  Editor  of  Canning's  Anti-jacobin 
newspaper ;  and  he,  who  had  more  wit  and  learning 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  writers  put  together,  became 
the  miserable  tool  in  circulating  their  attacks  upon 
every  thing  that  was  hostile  to  a  system  which  he 
deplored  and  detested.  But  he  secured  the  made- 
dishes,  the  wine,  the  footman  and  the  coachman.  A 
sinecure  as  "  clerk  of  the  Foreign  Estreats,''^  gave 
him  329/  a  year,  a  double  commissionership  of  the 
lottery  gave  him  600Z  or  700Z  more ;  and,  at  a  later 
period,  his  Editorship  of  the  Quarterly  Review  gave 
him  perhaps  as  much  more.  He  rolled  in  his  car- 
riage for  several  years ;  he  fared  sumptuously,  he  was 


'J: 

1 


Hi 


pjijil 


M 


^ll 


i  t  ■  I  i 


I*  p 

I 


ilWiiii 


lllli 


I, 


ll'ili 


W 


P'll!    H 

m 


I  III 


II  I 


tm 


!       I 


iiiih! 


52 


OOBBDTT'a  ADVICE 


buried  at  Westminster  Abbeys  of  which  his  friend  and 
formerly  his  brother  pamphleteer  in  defence  of  Pitt 
was  the  Dean :  and  never  is  he  to  be  heard  of  more ! 
Mr.  GiPFORD  would  have  been  full  as  happy,  his  health 
would  have  been  better,  his  life  longer,  and  his  name 
would  have  lived  for  ages,  if  he  could  have  turned 
to  the  bit  of  bacon  and  scrag  of  mutton  in  1798 ;  for 
his  learning  and  talents  were  such,  his  reasonings  so 
clear  and  conclusive,  and  his  wit  so  pointed  and 
keen,  that  his  writings  must  have  been  generally 
read,  must  have  been  of  long  duration ;  and  indeed 
must  have  enabled  him  (he  being  always  a  single 
man)  to  live  in  his  latter  days  in  as  good  style  as 
that  which  he  procured  by  becoming  a  sinecurist,  a 
pensioner,  and  a  hack,  all  which  he  was  from  the 
moment  he  lent  himself  to  the  Quarterly  Review. 
Think  of  the  mortification  of  such  a  man,  when 
he  was  called  upon  to  justify  the  power-of-imprison- 
ment  bill  in  1817!  But,  to  go  into  particulars 
would  be  tedious :  his  life  was  a  life  of  luxurious 
misery,  than  which  a  worse  is  not  to  be  imagined.  .. 
67.  So  that  poverty  is,  except  where  there  is  an 
actual  want  of  food  and  raiment,  a  thing  much  more 
imaginary  than  real.  The  shame  of  poverty^  the 
shame  of  being  thought  poor,  is  a  great  and  fatal 
weakness,  though  arising  in  this  country,  from  the 
fashion  of  the  times  themselves.  "When  a  good 
many  as  in  the  phraseology  of  the  city,  means  a  7Hch 
man,  we  are  not  to  wonder  that  every  one  wishes  to 
be  thought  richer  than  he  is.  When  adulation  is 
sure  to  follow  wealth,  and  when  contempt  would  be 
awarded  to  many  if  they  were  not  wealthy,  who  are 
spoken  of  with  deference,  and  even  lauded  to  the 
skies,  because  their  riches  are  great  and  notorious ; 
when  this  is  the  case,  we  are  not  to  be  surprised  that 
men  are  ashamed  to  be  thought  to  be  poor.  This  is  one 
of  the  greatest  of  all  the  dangers  at  the  outset  ol 
life :  it  has  brought  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands to  ruin,  even  to  pecuniary  ruin.  One  of  the 
most  amiable  features  in  the  character  of  American 
society  is  this  ;  that  men  never  boast  of  their  rich 


i 


% 


i 


Letter 


ri] 


TO  A  YOUNG   MAN. 


53 


id  and 
f  Pitt 
more  I 
health 
name 
Lurned 
8 ;  for 
ngsso 
jd  and 
lerally 
indeed 
single 
:yle  as 
irist,  a 
)m  the 
Review. 
,  when 
prison- 
ticulars 
Kurious 
fined.  : 
e  is  an 
h  more 
/y,  the 
fatal 
om  the 
a  good 
a  rich 
shes  to 
ation  is 
ould  be 
vho  are 
to  the 
t)rious ; 
ed  that 
sis  one 
itset  ol 
)f  thou- 
of  the 
nerican 
ir  rich 


■i 


es,  and  never  disguise  their  poverty ;  but  they  talk 
of  both  as  of  any  other  matter  fit  for  public  con- 
versation. No  man  shuns  another  because  he 
is  poor :  no  man  is  preferred  to  another  because 
he  is  rich.  In  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  instan- 
ces, men,  not  w^orth  a  shilling,  have  been  chosen  by 
the  people,  and  entrusted  Vi^ith  their  rights  and  inte- 
rests, in  preference  to  men  who  ride  in  their  carriages. 
58.  This  shame  of  being  thought  poor  is  not  only 
dishonourable  ia^itself,  and  fatally  injurious  to  vr  in 
of  talent ;  but  it  is  ruinous  even  in  ^pecuniary  point 
of  view,  and  equally  destructive  to  larmers,  traders, 
and  even  gen  tlemen  of  landed  estate.  It  leads  to  ever- 
lasting efforts  to  disguise  one's  poverty :  the  carriage, 
the  servants,  the  wine,  (O,  that  fatal  wine !)  the  spirits, 
the  decanters,  the  glasses,  all  the  table  apparatus,  the 
dress,  the  horses,  the  dinners,  the  parties,  all  must  be 
kept  up ;  not  so  much  because  he  or  she  or  who  keeps 
or  gives  them,  has  any  pleasure  arising  therefrom,  as 
because  not  to  keep  and  give  them,  would  give  rise  to 
a  suspicion  of  the  want  of  means  so  to  give  and 
keep ;  and  thus  thousands  upon  thousands  are  year- 
ly brought  into  a  state  of  real  poverty  by  their  great 
anxiety  not  to  he  thovght  poor.  Look  round  you,  mark 
well  what  you  behold,  and  say  if  this  be  not  the  case. 
In  how  many  instances  have  you  seen  most  amiable 
and  even  most  industrious  families  brought  to  ruin 
by  nothing  but  this !  Mark  it  well :  resolve  to  set 
thla  false  shame  at  defiance,  and  when  you  have 
done  that,  you  have  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  surest 
foundation  of  your  future  tranquillity  of  mind. 
There  are  thousands  of  families,  at  this  very  mo- 
ment, who  are  thus  struggling  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances. The  farmers  accommodate  themselves  to 
circumstances  more  easily  than  tradesmen  and 
professional  men.  They  live  at  a  greater  dis- 
tance from  their  neighbours :  they  can  change  their 
style  of  living  unperceived ;  they  can  banish  the 
decanter,  change  the  dishes  for  a  bit  of  bacon,  make 
a  treat  out  of  a  rasher  and  eggs,  and  the  world  is 
uone  the  wiser  all  the  while.    But  the  tradesman,  the 


i 


I A 


t     ■■'.■* 


1  '.'I 


rMiti 


Ill"   r  >i 

m 


'ill 


ll 

V' .  :'l' 
',l|k 


ill 

1'  ^ ' 


'!'i!  I   II 


^iui^l 


.i!ii:  ;^   ■ ! 


Pi 


54 


COBBETT*S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


doctor,  the  attorney,  and  the  trader,  cannot  make 
the  change  so  quietly  and  unseen.  The  accursed 
wine,  which  is  a  sort  of  criterion  of  the  style  ot 
living,  a  sort  of  scale  to  the  plan,  a  sort  of  key  to  the 
Utne  ;  this  is  the  thing  to  banish  first  of  all ;  because 
all  the  rest  follow,  and  come  down  to  their  proper 
level  in  a  short  time.  The  accursed  decanter  cries 
footman  or  waiting  maid,  puts  bells  to  the  side  ot 
the  wall,  screams  aloud  for  carpets ;  and  when  I 
am  asked,  "Lord,  what  is  a  glass  of  wine ?"  my  an- 
swer is,  that  in  this  country,  it  is  every  thing  ;  it  is 
the  pitcher  of  the  key  ;  it  demands  all  the  othei 
unnecessary  expenses ;  it  is  injurious  to  health,  and 
must  be  injurious,  every  bottle  of  wine  that  is  drunk 
containing  a  certain  portion  of  ardent  spirits,  be- 
sides other  drugs,  deleterious  in  their  nature ;  and, 
of  all  the  friends  to  the  doctors,  this  fashionable 
beverage  is  the  greatest.  And,  which  adds  greatly 
to  the  folly,  or,  I  should  say,  the  real  vice  in  using 
it,  is,  that  the  parties  themselves,  nine  times  out  oi 
ten,  do  not  drink  it  by  c/wice;  do  not  like  it ;  do  not 
relish  it ;  but  use  it  from  mere  ostentation,  being 
ashamed  to  be  seen  even  by  their  own  servants,  not 
to  drink  wine.  At  the  very  moment  I  am  writing 
this,  there  are  thousands  of  families  in  and  near 
London,  who  daily  have  wine  upon  their  tables,  and 
who  drink  it  too,  merely  because  their  own  servants 
should  not  suspect  them  to  be  poor,  and  not  deem 
them  to  be  genteel ;  and  thus  families  by  thousands 
are  ruined,  only  because  they  are  ashamed  to  be 
thought  poor. 

59.  There  is  no  shame  belonging  to  poverty,  which 
frequently  arises  from  the  virtues  of  the  impoverish 
ed  parties.  Not  so  frequently,  indeed,  as  from  vice, 
folly,  and  indiscretion;  but  still  very  frequently. 
And  as  the  Scripture  tells  us,  that  we  are  not  to  "de- 
spise the  poor  became  he  is  poor ;"  so  we  ought  not 
to  honour  the  rich  because  he  is  rich.  The  true  way 
is,  to  take  a  fair  survey  of  the  character  of  a  man  as 
depicted  in  his  conduct,  and  to  respect  him,  or  de-  | 
spise  him,  according  to  a  due  estimate  of  that  charac 


' 


U.J 


TO   A  YOUNG   MAN. 


55 


icause 
)roper 
•  cries 
ide  ot 
hen  I 
fiy  an- 
;  it  is 
othei' 
,h,  and 
drunk 
its,  be- 
i;  and, 
Lonable  ' 
greatly 
1  using 
out  01 
do  not 
,  being 
its,  not  S 
writing 
A  near 
es,  and 
ervants 
>t  deem 
msands 
to  be 

,  wbich 
)verish 
m  vice, 
uently. 
to"de- 
ght  not 
ue  way 
man  as 
,  or  de- 
cliarac 


u 


ter.  No  country  upon  earth  exhibits  so  many,  as  this, 
of  those  fatal  terminations  of  life,  called  suicides. 
These  arise,  in  nine  instances  out  of  ten,  from  this 
very  source.  The  victims  are,  in  general,  what  may 
be  fairly  called  insane ;  but  their  insanity  almost  al- 
ways arises  from  the  dread  of  poverty ;  not  from  the 
dread  of  a  want  of  the  means  of  sustaining  life,  or 
even  decent  living,  but  from  the  dread  of  being 
^j  thought  or  known  to  be  poor ;  from  the  dread  of 
I  what  is  called  falling  in  the  scale  of  society ;  a  dread 
which  is  prevalent  hardly  in  any  country  but  this. 
Looked  at  in  its  true  light,  what  is  there  in  poverty 
to  make  a  man  take  away  his  own  life  ?  he  is  the 
same  man  that  he  was  before :  he  has  the  same  body 
and  the  same  mind :  if  he  even  foresee  a  great  alter- 
ation in  his  dress  or  his  diet,  why  should  he  kill  him- 
self on  that  account  ?  Are  these  all  the  things  that 
a  man  wishes  to  live  for  ?  But,  such  is  the  fact ;  so 
great  is  the  disgrace  upon  this  country,  and  so  nu- 
merous and  terrible  are  the  evils  arising  from  this 
dread  of  boircr  thought  to  be  poor. 

60.  Nevtni  '^ -^s,  men  ought  to  take  care  of  their 
means,  ough'  tv.  i;3e  them  prudently  and  sparingly, 
and  to  keep  tiieir  expenses  always  within  the  bounds 
of  their  income,  be  it  what  it  may.  One  of  the  ef- 
fectual means  of  doing  this,  is,  to  purchase  with 
ready  money.  St.  Paul  says,  "  Otoe  no  man  any 
thing :^'^  and  of  his  numerous  precepts  this  is  by  no 
means  the  least  worthy  of  our  attention.  Credit  has 
been  boasted  of  as  a  very  fine  thing :  to  decry  credit 
seems  to  be  setting  oneself  up  against  the  opinions 
of  the  whole  world ;  and  I  remember  a  paper  in  the 
Freeholder  or  the  Spectator,  published  just  after 
the  funding  system  had  begun,  representing  "  Public 
Credit"  as  a  Goddess,  enthroned  in  a  temple  dedi- 
cated to  her  by  her  votaries,  amongst  whom  she  is 
dispensing  blessings  of  every  description.  It  must 
be  more  than  forty  years  since  I  read  this  paper, 
which  I  read  soon  after  the  time  when  the  late  Mr. 
Pitt  uttered  in  Parliament  an  expression  of  his 
anxious  hope,  that  his  '<  name  would  be  inscribed  on 


*    \^\H 


\  I 


:| 


■ik  i 


|4»  j 


56 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


iiyi!  ill  11!^ 


iniilil'    ;::i 

1:M-       li;!' 


■'I'l; 


^ili 


il  !:i:i 


"  the  m4)imment  which  he  should  raise  to  public 
credity  Time  has  taught  me,  that  Public  Credit 
means,  the  contracting  of  debts  which  a  nation  never 
can  pay ;  and  I  have  lived  to  see  this  Goddess  pro- 
duce effects  in  my  country,  which  Satan  himself  ne- 
ver could  have  produced.  It  is  a  very  bewitching 
goddess ;  and  not  less  fatal  in  her  influence  in  private 
than  in  public  affairs.  It  has  been  carried  in  this  lat- 
ter respect  to  such  a  pitch,  that  scarcely  any  trans- 
action, however  low  and  inconsiderable  in  amount, 
takes  place  in  any  other  way.  There  is  a  trade  in 
London,  called  the  "  Tally-trade,"  by  which,  house- 
hold goods,  coals,  clothing,  all  sorts  of  things,  are 
sold  upon  credit,  the  seller  keeping  a  tally,  and  re- 
ceiving payment  for  the  goods,  little  by  little;  so 
that  the  income  and  the  earnings  of  the  buyers  are 
always  anticipated;  are  always  gone,  in  fact,  before 
they  come  in  or  cire  earned ;  the  sellers  receiving,  of 
course,  a  great  deal  more  than  the  proper  profit. 

61.  Without  supposing  you  to  descend  to  so  low  a 
grade  as  this,  and  *^ven  supposing  you  to  be  lawyer, 
doctor,  parson, or  merchant;  it  is  still  the  same  thing, 
if  you  purchase  on  credit,  and  not  perhaps,  in  a 
much  less  degree  of  disadvantage.  Besides  the 
higher  price  that  you  pay,  there  is  the  temptation 
to  have  what  you  really  do  not  want.  The  cost  seems 
a  trifle,  when  you  have  not  to  pay  the  money  until  a 
future  time.  It  has  been  observed,  and  very  truly 
observed,  that  men  used  to  lay  out  a  one-pound  note 
when  they  would  not  lay  o.it  a  sovereign ;  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  things  pro- 
duces a  retentiveness  in  the  latter  case  more  than  in 
the  former :  the  sight  and  the  touch  assist  the  mind 
in  forming  its  conclusions,  and  the  one-pound  note 
was  parted  with  when  the  sovereign  would  have  been 
kept.  Far  greater  is  the  difference  between  credit 
and  ready  money.  Innumerable  things  are  not  bought 
at  all  with  ready  money,  which  would  be  bought  in 
case  of  trust :  it  is  so  much  easier  to  order  a  thing 
than  to  pay  for  it.  A  future  day ;  a  day  of  payment 
must  come,  to  be  sure,  but  that  is  little  thought  of 


£ 


\ 


at  the  til 

the  moi 

question 

thing  in< 

suffer  a 

cost  of  t 

time  we 

those  sil 

country. 

62.  I J 

said,  thai 

chasing 

transacti 

but  these 

these  cas 

bonds,  an 

every-da 

butcher, 

excuse  ca 

merchant 

changes  ? 

told  of  a 

keep  a  litt 

answered. 

"  count-be 

"  take  as  t 

"  ture,  the 

"  be  an  inl 

"  that  he  ( 

63. 1  be] 

speaking, 

part  more 

C'^'se  of  rf 

butciidr,  ta 

one  hundr 

is  to  say,  i 

will  find,  t 

500/.  besid 

The  father 

and  also  th 

trust  at  a  I 


11] 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


57 


L  never 
s  pro- 
;elf  ne- 
itching 
private 
his  lat- 
traiis- 
mount, 
rade  in 
house- 
igs,  are 
and  re- 
ttle;  so 
jrers  are 
;,  before 
ving,  of 
rofit. 
50  low  a 
lawyer, 
e  thing, 
)s,  in  a 
ies  the 
iptation 
5t  seems 
Y  until  a 
truly 
hd  note 
a  con- 
gs  pro- 
than  In 
le  mind 
id  note 
ivebeen 
n  credit 
thought 
mght  in 
a  thing 
ayment 
ught  of 


at  the  time ;  but  if  the  money  were  to  be  drawn  out, 
the  moment  the  thing  was  received  or  offered,  this 
question  would  arise,  "  Can  Idowithmit  it  ?"  Is  this 
tiling  indispensable ;  am  I  compelled  to  have  it,  or, 
suffer  a  loss  or  injury  greater  in  amount  than  the 
cost  of  the  thing  ?  If  this  question  were  put  every 
time  we  make  a  purchase,  seldom  should  we  hear  of 
those  suicides  which  are  such  a  disgrace  ^to  this 
country. 

62.  I  am  aware,  that  it  will  be  said,  and  very  truly 
said,  that  the  concerns  of  merchants ;  that  the  pur- 
chasing of  great  estates,  and  various  other  great 
transactions,  cannot  be  carried  on  in  this  manner  ; 
but  these  are  rare  exceptions  to  the  rule :  even  in 
these  cases  there  might  be  much  less  of  bills  and 
bonds,  and  all  the  sources  of  litigation  ;  but  in  the 
every-day  business  of  life,  in  transactions  with  the 
butcher,  the  baker,  the  tailor,  the  shoemaker,  what 
excuse  can  there  be  for  pleading  the  example  of  the 
merchant,  who  carries  on  his  work  by  ships  and  ex- 
changes ?  I  was  delighted,  some  time  ago,  by  being 
told  of  a  young  man,  who,  upon  being  advised  to 
keep  a  little  account  of  all  he  received  and  expended, 
answered,  "that  his  business  was  not  to  keep  ac- 
"  count-books :  that  he  was  sure  not  to  make  a  mis- 
"  take  as  to  his  income ;  and,  that  as  to  his  expendi- 
"  ture,  the  little  bag  that  held  his  sovereigns  would 
"  be  an  infallible  guide,  as  he  never  bought  any  thing 
"  that  he  did  not  immediately  pay  for." 

63. 1  believe  that  nobody  will  deny,  that,  generally 
speaking,  you  pay  for  the  same  article  a  fourth 
part  more  in  the  case  of  trust  than  you  do  in  the 
c^^se  of  ready  money.  Suppose,  then,  the  baker, 
buiciier,  tailor,  and  shoemaker,  receive  from  you  only 
one  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Put  that  together ;  that 
is  to  say,  multiply  twenty-five  by  twenty,  and  you 
will  find,  that,  at  the  end  of  twenty  years,  you  have 
500/.  besides  the  accumulating  and  growing  interest. 
The  fathers  of  the  Church  (I  mean  the  ancient  ones), 
and  also  the  canons  of  the  Church,  forbade  selling  on 
trust  at  a  higher  price  than  for  ready  money,  which 


i:^. 


'  i' 


.u.: 


i  '  '^l 


58 


cobbett's  advice 


fLetter 


ill 


mm 


il';:ii  !i 


ll-H 


.1-,  ■,    ii 


-I'i'i  P    III 


t'ii      :    ! 


Ih!    ;    ■' 


li'M 


■Hi 


r '  ' 
Ii  I. , 

m 

1;  < 


Mk' 


Biliil'lilllli;! 


ifi    'I'll , 

M  111!': 


r 


was  in  efTect,  to  forbid  trust ;  and  tliis,  doubtless, 
was  one  of  tlie  great  objects  which  those  wise  and 
pious  men  had  in  view  ;  for  they  were  fathers  in  le- 
gislation and  morals  as  well  as  in  religion.  But  the 
doctrine  of  these  fathers  and  canons  no  longer  pre- 
vails ;  they  are  set  at  nought  by  the  present  age, 
even  in  the  countries  that  adhere  to  their  religion. 
Addison's  Goddess  has  prevailed  over  the  fathers  and 
the  canons;  and  men  not  only  make  a  difference  in 
the  price  regulated  by  the  difference  in  the  mode  of 
payment ;  but  it  would  be  absurd  to  expect  them  to  \ 
do  otherwise.  They  must  not  only  charge  some- 
thing for  the  want  of  the  use  of  the  money  ;  but 
they  must  charge  something  additional  for  the  risk 
of  its  loss,  which  may  frequently  arise,  and  most 
frequently  does  arise,  from  the  misfortunes  of  those 
to  whom  they  have  assigned  their  goods  on  trust. 
The  man,  therefore,  who  purchases  on  trust,  not 
only  pays  for  the  trust,  but  he  also  pays  his  due 
share  of  what  the  tradesman  loses  by  trust ;  and,  af- 
ter all,  he  is  not  so  good  a  customer  as  the  man  who 
purchases  cheaply  with  ready  money ;  for  there  is 
his  name  indeed  in  the  tradesman's  book  ;  but  with 
that  name  the  tradesman  cannot  go  to  market  to  get 
a  fresh  supply. 

64.  Infinite  are  the  ways  in  which  gentlemen  lose 
by  this  sort  of  dealing.  Servants  go  and  order,  some- 
times, things  not  wanted  at  all ;  at  other  times,  more 
than  is  wanted ;  at  others,  things  of  a  higher  quali- 
ty ;  and  all  this  would  be  obviated  by  purchasing  with 
ready  money ;  for,  whether  through  the  hands  of 
the  party  himself,  or  through  those  of  an  inferior, 
there  would  always  be  an  actual  counting  out  of  the 
money ;  somebody  would  see  the  thing  bought  and 
see  the  money  paid ;  and  as  the  master  would  give 
the  house-keeper  or  steward  a  bag  of  money  at  the 
time,  he  would  see  the  money  too,  would  set  a  proper 
value  upon  it,  ^and  would  just  desire  to  know  upon 
what  it  had  been  expended. 
I  65.  How  is  it  that  farmers  are  so  exact,  and  show 
iBuch  a  disDosition  to  retrench  in  the  article  of  la- 


wine,  sug 

other  thi 

making  tl 

these.  Th 

they  give 

day  night 

in  taxes  o 

it  that  th( 

seven  mil 

and  say  n 

raised  in  ( 

therefore, 

in  the  oth 

but  the  po( 

lected  froi 

hands  int 

they  are  e 

rates,  and 

smallest  p 

66.  Jusi 

never  pur 

make  the 

his  means 

addition  t( 

the  end  ol 

more  to  sp 

in  trust  ;w 

theVhile ; 

papers  anc 

putes  and 

credit.    T 

by  no  mea 

ney ;  for,  1 

gives  you  r 

ford  to  ha\ 

and  I  will  i 

taste,  the  s 

horse  or  ar 

fcssion  or 


*Mi. 


TO  A   YOUNG  MAN. 


59 


hour,  when  they  seem  to  think  little,  or  nothing, 
about  the  sums  which  they  pay  in  tax  upon  malt, 
wine,  sugar,  tea,  soap,  candles,  tobacco,  and  various 
other  things?  You  find  the  utmost  difficulty  in 
making  them  understand,  that  they  are  affected  by 
these.  The  reason  is,  that  they  sec 'the  money  which 
they  give  to  the  labourer  on  each  succeeding  Satur- 
day night ;  but  they  do  not  see  that  which  they  give 
ill  taxes  on  the  articles  before  mentioned.  V/hy  is 
it  that  they  make  such  an  outcry  about  the  six  or 
seven  millions  a  year  which  are  paid  in  poor-rates, 
and  say  not  a  word  abov  ^hr  ay  millions  a  y'«»r 
raised  in  other  taxes  ?  1  iie  cou  uer  pays  all ;  au  \ 
therefore,  they  are  as  much  interested  in  the  one  as 
in  the  other ;  and  yet  the  farmers  think  of  no  tax 
but  the  poor  tax.  The  reason  is,  that  the  latter  is  col- 
lected from  them  in  money:  they  see  it  go  out  of  their 
hands  into  the  hands  of  another;  and,  therefore, 
they  are  everlastingly  anxious  to  reduce  the  poor- 
rates,  and  they  take  care  to  keep  them  within  the 
smallest  possible  bounds. 

66.  Just  thus  would  it  be  with  every  man  that 
never  purchased  but  with  ready  money  :  he  would 
make  the  amount  as  low  as  possible  in  proportion  to 
his  means :  this  care  and  frugality  would  make  an 
addition  to  his  means,  and,  therefore  in  the  end,  at 
the  end  of  his  life,  he  would  have  had  a  great  deal 
more  to  spend,  and  still  be  as  rich,  as  if  he  had  gone 
intrust;  while  he  would  have  lived  in  tranquillity  all 
theVhile ;  and  would  have  avoided  all  the  endless 
papers  and  writings  and  receipts  and  bills  and  dis- 
putes and  law-suits  inseparable  from  a  system  of 
credit.  This  is  by  no  means  a  lesson  oi  stinginess ; 
by  no  means  tends  to  inculcate  a  heaping  up  of  mo- 
ney ;  for,  the  purchasing  with  ready  money  really 
gives  you  more  money  to  purchase  with ;  you  can  af- 
ford to  have  a  greater  quantity  and  variety  of  things ; 
and  I  will  engage,  that,  if  horses  or  servants  be  your 
taste,  the  saving  in  this  way  gives  you  an  additional 
horse  or  an  additional  servant,  if  you  be  in  any  pro- 
fession or  engaged  iu  any  considerable  trade.    la 


•  ill 


iff         ;  •'! 


■■If* 


}  !!««■ 


:V\> 


.1-     , 


*/fi« 


1'^ 


i         1/ 


wmw 


lli|i:il! 


■'''"Ill 

4k 


■';i 


•  w  II 


m 


'ill;-. 


i'l'^ILiij, 


Ijii  ill 

'  ^1 


60 


COBBETT  S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


towns,  it  tends  to  accelerate  your  pace  along  the 
streets;  for,  the  temptation  of  the  windows  is  answer- 
ed in  a  moment  by  clapping  your  hand  upon  your 
thigh ;  and  the  question,  "  Do  1  really  want  that  ?"  is 
sure  to  occur  to  you  immediately ;  because  the  toucli 
of  the  money  is  sure  to  put  that  thought  in  your 
mind. 

67.  Now,  supposing  you  to  have  a  plenty,  lo 
have  a  fortune  beyond  your  wants,  would  not  the 
money  which  you  would  save  in  this  way,  be  very 
wctl  applied  in  acts  of  real  benevolence  1  Can  you 
walk  many  yards  in  the  streets ;  can  you  ride  a  mile 
in  the  country ;  can  you  go  to  half  a  dozen  cottages; 
can  you,  in  short,  open  your  eyes,  without  seeing 
some  human  being;  some  one  born  in  the  same 
country  with  yourself,  and  who,  on  that  account 
alone,  has  some  claim  upon  your  good  wishes  and 
your  charity ;  can  you  open  your  eyes  without  see- 
ing some  person  to  whom  even  a  small  portion  of 
your  annual  savings  would  convey  gladness  of 
heart  ?  Your  own  heart  will  suggest  the  answer ; 
and  if  there  were  no  motive  but  this,  what  need  I  say 
more  in  the  advice  which  I  have  here  tendered  to 
you? 

68.  Another  great  evil  arising  from  this  desire  to 
be  thought  rich,  or  rather  from  the  desire  not  to  be 
thought  poor,  is  the  destructive  thing  which  has 
been  honoured  by  the  name  of  "  speculation  f  but 
which  ought  to  be  called  Gambling.  It  is  a  purcha- 
sing of  something  which  you  do  not  want,  either  in  j 
your  family  or  in  the  way  of  ordinary  trade :  a  I 
something  to  be  sold  again  with  a  great  profit ;  and 
on  the  sale  of  which  there  is  a  considerable  hazard. ; 
When  purchases  of  this  sort  are  made  with  ready 
money,  they  are  not  so  offensive  to  reason,  and  not 
attended  with  such  risk ;  but  when  they  are  made 
with  money  borrowed  for  the  purpose,  they  arc  nei- 
ther more  nor  less  than  gambling  transactions ;  and 
they  have  been,  in  this  country,  a  source  of  ruin, 
misery,  and  suicide,  admitting  of  no  adequate  de- 
scription.   I  grant  that  this  gambling  has  arisen 


TO  A  TOUNG  MAN. 


Ul 


■i 


ng  the 
mswer- 
>n  your 
lat  ?"  is 
e  touch 
n  your 

;nty,  lo 
not  tlu) 
be  very 
/an  you 
e  a  mile 
5ltages ; 
t  seeing 
le  same 
account 
hea  and 
lOut  sec- 
)rtion  of 
Iness  of 
answer ; 
;ed  I  say 
dered  to 

icsire  to 
lot  to  be 
ch  has 
m;''  but 
purcha- 
ither  in 
rade :  a 
ifit ;  ani] 
hazard. 
,h  ready! 
and  not ' 
je  made 
arc  nei- 
ns ;  and  I 
of  ruin, 
uatc  de- 1 
.8  arisen! 


from  the  influence  of  the  "  Goddess'^  before  mention- 
ed ;  I  grant  that  it  has  arisen  from  the  facility  of 
obtaining  the  fictitious  means  of  making  the  purcha- 
ses ;  and  I  grant  that  that  facility  has  been  created 
by  the  system,  under  the  baneful  influence  of  which 
we  live.  But  it  is  not  the  less  necessary  that  I  be- 
seech you  not  to  practise  such  gambling ;  that  I  be- 
seech you,  if  you  be  engaged  in  it,  to  disentangle 
yourself  from  it  as  soon  as  you  can.  Your  life, 
while  you  are  thus  engaged,  is  the  life  of  a  gamester ; 
a  life  of  constant  anxiety  ;  constant  desire  to  over- 
reach ;  constant  apprehension ;  general  gloom,  en- 
livened, now  and  then,  by  a  gleam  of  hope  or  of 
success.  Even  that  success  is  sure  to  lead  to  fur- 
ther adventures ;  and,  at  last,  a  thousand  to  one,  that 
your  fate  is  that  of  the  pitcher  to  the  well. 

69.  The  great  temptation  to  this  gambling  is, 
as  in  the  case  in  other  gambling,  the  success  ^  the 
few.  As  young  men,  who  crowd  to  the  army,  in 
search  of  rank  and  renown,  never  look  into  the 
ditch  that  holds  their  slaughtered  companions ;  but 
have  their  eye  constantly  fixed  on  the  general  in 
chief;  and  as  each  of  them  belongs  to  the  same 
professio7i,  and  is  sure  to  be  conscious  that  he  has 
equal  merit,  every  one  deems  himself  the  suitable 
successor  of  him  who  is  surrounded  with  Aides-de- 
campy  and  who  moves  battalions  and  columns  by 
his  nod ;  so  with  the  rising  generation  of  "  specula- 
tors :"  they  see  the  great  estates  that  have  succeed- 
ed the  pencil-box  and  the  orange-basket ;  they  see 
those  whom  nature  and  good  laws  made  to  black 
shoes,  sweep  chimnies  or  the  streets,  rolling  in  car- 
riages, or  sitting  in  saloons  surrounded  by  gaudy 
footmen  with  napkins  twisted  round  their  thumbs  ; 
I  and  they  can  see  no  earthly  reason  why  they  should 
not  all  do  the  same;  forgetting  the  thousands  and 
thousands,  who,  in  making  the  attempt,  have  re- 
duced themselves  to  that  beggary  which,  before 
thwr  attempt,  they  would  have  regarded  as  a  thing 
[wholly  impossible. 

70.  In  all  situations  of  life,  avoid  the  trammels  of 

a 


If 


•-A 

I 

4 


'1 

i 


^4 


I    Jl: 


62 


cobbett's  advice 


ii  :• :!': 


Iiii  !:l'''''!!  1' 


|i:r>i;: 


I 
I'll' 


!!lF: 


1:1  ;i|i'^      '     I 


.  ■;;|i 


II:  I'      '''  •! 


!'!i' 


'I'll'; 


'Ml' 


I    i 


ill 


i  i; 


!;       ;  'liii: 


!'■  "  'I  ,,ii  I 
■    .  Tillll 


i/w  law.  Man's  nature  must  be  changed  before  law- 
suits will  cease ;  and,  perhaps,  it  would  be  next  to 
impossible  to  make  them  less  frequent  than  they  are 
in  the  present  state  of  this  country ;  but  though  no 
man  who  has  any  property  at  all,  can  say  that  he 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  law-suits,  it  is  in  the 
power  of  most  men  to  avoid  them,  in  a  considerable 
degree.  One  good  rule  is,  to  have  as  little  as  possible 
to  do  with  any  man  who  is  fond  of  law-suits ;  and 
who,  upon  every  slight  occasion,  talks  of  an  appeal 
to  the  law.  Such  persons,  from  their  frequent  liti- 
gations, contract  a  habit  of  using  the  technical 
terms  of  the  courts,  in  which  they  take  a  pride,  and 
are,  therefore,  companions  peculiarly  disgusting  to 
men  of  sense.  To  su(3h  men  a  law-suit  is  a  luxury, 
instead  of  being  as  it  is,  to  men  of  ordinary  minds, 
a  source  of  anxiety  and  a  real  and  substantial 
scourge.  Such  men  are  always  of  a  quarrelsome 
disposition,  and  avail  themselves  of  every  opportu- 
nity to  indulge  in  that  which  is  mischievous  to  their 
neighbours.  In  thousands  of  instances  men  go  to 
law  for  the  indulgence  of  mere  anger.  The  Ger- 
mans are  said  to  bring  spite-actions  against  one 
another ;  and  to  harass  their  poorer  neighbours, 
from  motives  of  pure  revenge.  They  have  carried 
this  their  disposition  with  them  to  America ;  for 
which  reason  no  one  likes  to  live  in  a  German 
neighbourhood. 

71.  Before  you  go  to  law,  consider  well  the  cost; 
for  if  you  win  your  suit  and  are  poorer  than  you 
were  before,  what  do  you  accomplish  ?  You  only 
imbibe  a  little  additional  anger  against  your  oppo- 
nent ;  you  injure  him,  but  do  harm  to  yourself. 
Better  to  nut  up  with  the  loss  of  one  pound  than  of 
two,  to  which  latter  is  to  be  added  all  the  loss  of 
time  ;  all  the  trouble,  and  all  the  mortification  and 
anxiety  attending  a  law-suit.  To  set  an  attorney  lo 
work  to  worry  and  torment  another  man  is  a  very 
base  act ;  to  alarm  his  family  as  well  as  himself, 
while  y(;U  are  silting  quirtly  at  home.  If  a  man 
owe  you  money  which  he  cannot  pay,  why  add  to 


II] 


TO  A  YOUNG   MAN. 


63 


. 


his  distress  without  the  chance  of  benefit  to  your- 
self? Thousands  of  men  have  injured  themselves 
by  resorting  to  the  law  ;  while  very  few  ever  bet- 
tered themselves  by  it,  except  such  resort  were  una- 
voidable. 

72.  Nothing  is  much  more  discreditable  than 
what  is  called  hard  dealing.  Tliey  say  of  the 
Turks,  that  they  know  nothing  o{lwo  f  vices  for  the 
same  article :  and  that  to  ask  an  abatement  of  the 
lowest  shopkeeper  is  to  insult  him.  It  would  be  well 
if  Christians  imitated  Mahometans  in  this  respect. 
To  ask  one  price  and  take  another,  or  to  offer  one 
price  and  give  another,  besides  the  loss  of  time  that 
it  occasions,  is  highly  dishonourable  to  the  parties, 
and  especially  when  pushed  to  the  extent  of  solemn 
protestations.  It  is  in  fact,  a  species  of  lying  ;  and 
it  answers  no  one  advantageous  purpose  to  either 
buyer  or  seller.  I  hope  that  every  young  man,  who 
reads  this,  will  start  in  life  with  a  resolution  never 
to  higgle  and  lie  in  dealings.  There  is  this  circum- 
stance in  favour  of  the  bookseller's  business ;  every 
book  has  its  fixed  price,  and  no  one  ever  asks  an 
abatement.  If  it  were  thus  in  all  other  trades,  how 
much  time  would  be  saved,  and  how  much  immo- 
rality prevented ! 

73.  As  to  the  spending  of  your  time,  your  busi- 
ness or  your  profession  is  to  claim  the  priority  of 
every  thing  else.  Unless  that  be  duly  attended  tOy 
there  can  be  no  real  pleasure  in  any  other  employ- 
ment of  a  portion  of  your  time.  Men,  however, 
must  have  some  leisure,  some  relaxation  from  busi- 
ness ;  and  in  the  choice  of  this  relaxation,  much  of 
your  happiness  will  depend.  Where  fields  and  gar- 
dens are  at  hand,  they  present  the  most  rational 
scenes  for  leisure.  As  to  company,  I  have  said 
enough  in  the  former  letter  to  deter  any  young  man 
from  that  of  drunkards  and  rioting  companions ;  but 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  your  quiet  ^^  pipe-and-pot- 

!  companmis,^^  which  are,  perhaps,  the  most  fatal  of 
all.  Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  dull,  more 
:  stupid,  more  the  contrary  of  edification  and  rational 


1 

i 

■ ' 

i 

■:    % 

'4 

'  :« 


M 


cobbett's  advice 


§'[  li." 


I:        I 


i.!"=!i 


i: 


.;^i.  I 


amusement,  than  sitting,  sotting,  orer  a  pot  and  a 
glass,  sending  out  smolce  from  the  liead,  and  articu- 
lating, at  intervals,  nonsense  about  all  sorts  of  things. 
Seven  years'  service  as  a  galley-slave  would  be  more 
bearable  to  a  man  of  sense,  than  seven  mouths'  con- 
finemeut  to  society  like  this.  Yet,  such  is  the  effect 
of  habit,  that,  if  a  young  man  become  a  frequentei 
of  such  scenes,  the  idle  propensity  sticks  to  him  foi 
life.  Some  companions,  however,  every  man  must 
have ;  but  these  every  well-behaved  man  will  find  in 
private  houses,  where  famihes  arc  found  residing, 
and  where  the  suitable  intercourse  takes  place  be- 
tween women  and  men.  A  man  that  cannot  pass  an 
evening  without  drink  merits  the  name  of  a  sot. 
Why  should  there  be  drink  for  the  purpose  of  carry- 
ing on  conversation  1  Women  stand  in  need  of  no 
drink  to  stimulate  them  to  converse ;  and  I  have  a 
thousand  times  admired  their  patience  in  sitting 
quietly  at  their  work,  while  their  husbands  are  en- 
gaged, in  the  same  room,  with  bottles  and  glasses 
before  them,  thinking  nothing  of  the  expense  and 
still  less  of  the  sliame  which  the  distinction  reflects 
upon  them.  We  have  to  thank  the  women  for  many 
things,  and  particularly  for  their  sobriety,  for  fear  of 
following  their  example  in  which  men  drive  them 
from  the  table,  as  if  they  said  to  them :  "  You  have 
"  had  enough ;  food  is  sufficient  for  you  ;  but  we 
"  must  remain  to  fill  ourselves  with  drink,  and  to  talk 
"  in  language  which  your  ears  ought  not  to  endure." 
When  women  are  getting  up  to  retire  from  the  table, 
men  rise  m  Jtonour  of  them ;  but,  they  take  special 
care  not  to  follow  their  excellent  example.  That 
which  is  not  fit  to  be  uttered  before  women  is  not  fit 
to  be  uttered  at  all ;  and  it  is  next  to  a  proclamation 
tolerating  drunkenness  and  indecency,  to  send  wo- 
men from  the  table  the  moment  they  have  swallowed 
their  food.  The  practice  has  been  ascribed  to  a  de- 
sire to  leave  them  to  themselves :  but  why  should 
they  be  left  to  themselves  ?  Their  conversation  is 
always  the  most  lively,  while  their  persons  are  ge- 
nerally the  most  agreeable  objects.    No :  theplain 


TO  A  YOUNO  MAN. 


65 


!    <1 


;  and  a 
articu- 
'things. 
3e  more 
tia'  con- 
le  effect 
quentei 
him  foi 
m  must 
1  find  in 
csiding, 
lace  be- 
,  pass  an 
tf  a  sol. 
)f  carry- 
3d  of  no 
I  have  a 
1  sitting 
are  en- 
l  glasses 
inse  and 
.  reflects 
or  many 
)r  fear  of 
ve  them 
ou  have 
but  we 
d  to  talk 
jndure." 
le  table, 
special 
That 
s  not  fit 
amation 
end  wo- 
allowed 
to  a  de- 
should 
ation  is 
are  ge- 
he  plain 


i 


:; 


truth  is,  ihat  it  is  the  love  of  the  drink  and  of  the 
indecent  talk  that  send  women  from  the  table ;  and 
it  is  a  practice  which  1  have  always  abhorred.  I 
like  to  see  young  men,  especially,  follow  them  out  of 
the  room,  and  prefer  their  company  to  that  of  the 
bots  who  are  left  behind. 

74.  Another  mode  of  spending  the  leisure  time  is 
that  of  books.  Rational  and  well-informed  com- 
panions may  be  still  more  instructive ;  but,  books 
never  annoy ;  they  cost  little ;  and  they  are  always 
at  hand,  and  ready  at  your  call.  The  sort  of  books, 
must,  in  some  degree,  depend  upon  your  pursuit  in 
life;  but  there  are  some  books  necessary  to  every 
one  who  aims  at  the  character  of  a  well-informed 
man.  I  have  slightly  mentioned  History  and  Geo- 
graphy in  the  preceding  letter ;  but  I  must  here  ob- 
serve, that,  as  to  both  these,  you  should  begin  with 
your  own  country,  and  make  yourself  well  acquaint- 
ed, not  only  with  its  ancient  state,  but  with  the  origin 
of  all  its  principal  institutions.  To  read  of  the  bat- 
tles which  it  has  fought,  and  of  the  intrigues  by  which 
one  king  <j)r  one  minister  hassucceeded  another,is  very 
little  more  profitable  than  the  reading  of  a  romance. 
To  understand  well  the  history  of  the  country,  you 
should  first  understand  how  it  came  to  be  divided 
into  counties,  hundreds,  and  into  parishes;  how 
judges,  sheriffs,  and  juries  first  arose;  to  what  end 
they  were  all  invented,  and  how  the  changes  with  re- 
spjpct  to  any  of  them  have  been  produced.  But,  it 
is  of  particular  consequence,  that  you  ascertain  the 
state  of  the  people  in  former  times,  which  is  to  be  as- 
certained by  comparing  the  then  price  of  labour  "mth 
the  then  price  of  food.  You  hear  enough,  and  ycfa 
read  enough,  aoout  ilie  glorioits  wars  in  the  reign  of 
King  Edward  the  third  ;  and  it  is  very  proper  that 
those  glories  should  be  recorded  and  remembered ; 
but  you  never  read,  in  the  works  of  the  historians, 
that,  in  that  reign,  a  common  labourer  earned  three- 
pence-halfpenny a  day ;  and  that  hfat  sheep  was  sold, 
at  the  same  time,  for  one  shilling  and  twopence,  and 
a  fat  hog,  two  years  old,  for  three  shillings  and  four- 

6* 


fii^ 


-J 


m 


'I  '! 


f   li' 


Biifi! 


J  r' 


■11 


III, 


■inh'li 

(i!!;l! 

■fjlliir:'^' 


fci.lH   I 


66 


COBBETT^a  ADVICE 


pence,  and  a  fat  goose  for  twopence-halfpenny.  You 
never  read,  that  women  received  a  penny  a  day  for 
hay-making  or  weeding  in  the  corn,  and  that  a  gal- 
lon of  red  wine  was  sold  for  fourpence.  These  are 
matters  which  historians  have  deemed  to  be  beneath 
their  notice;  but,  they  are  matters  of  real  importance: 
they  are  matters  which  ought  to  have  practical  ef- 
fect at  this  time;  for  these  furnish  the  criterion 
whereby  we  are  to  judge  of  our  condition  compared 
with  that  of  our  forefathers.  The  poor-rates  form 
a  great  feature  in  the  laws  and  customs  of  this  coun- 
try. Put  to  a  thousand  persons  who  have  read  what 
is  ^called  the  history  of  England ;  put  to  them  the 
question,  how  the  poor-rates  came  ?  and  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninety-nine  of  the  thousand  will  tell  yon, 
that  they  know  nothing  at  all  of  the  matter.  This 
is  not  history ;  a  list  of  battles  and  a  string  of  in- 
trigues are  not  history,  they  communicate  no  know- 
ledge applicable  to  our  present  state ;  and  it  really  is 
better  to  amuse  oneself  with  an  avowed  romance, 
which  latter  is  a  great  deal  worse  than  passing  one's 
time  in  counting  the  trees. 

75.  History  has  been  described  as  affording  argu- 
ments of  experience ;  as  a  record  of  what  has  been, 
in  order  to  guide  us  as  to  what  is  likely  to  be,  or  what 
ought  to  be ;  but,  from  this  romancing  history,  no 
such  experience  is  to  be  derived :  for  it  furnishes  no 
facts  on  which  to  found  arguments  relative  to  the 
existing  or  future  state  of  things.  To  come  at  the  true 
history  of  a  country  you  must  read  its  laws :  you 
must  read  books  treating  of  its  usages  and  customs, 
in  former  times  ;  and  you  must  particularly  inform 
yourself  as  to  prices  of  labour  and  of  food.  By  read- 
ing the  single  Act  of  the  23rd  year  of  Edward 
the  Tumn,  specifying  the  price  of  labour  at  that  time; 
by  reading  an  act  of  Parliament  passed  in  the  24tli 
year  of  Henry  the  8th  ;  by  reading  these  two  Acts,  j 
and  then  reading  the  Precigsitm  of  Bishop  Fleet- 
wood, which  shows  the  price  of  food  in  the  former 
reign,  you  come  into  full  possession  of  the  know- 
ledge of  what  England  was  in  former  times.  Divers 


t 


1-;; 


n.j 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


67 


books  teach  how  the  divisions  of  the  country  arose, 
and  how  its  great  institutions  were  established ;  and, 
the  result  of  this  reading  is  in  store  of  knowledge, 
which  will  afford  you  pleasure  for  the  whole  of  your 
life. 

76.  History,  however,  is  by  no  means  the  only 
thing  about  which  every  man's  leisure  furnishes  him 
with  the  means  of  reading;  besides  which,  every 
man  has  not  the  same  taste.  Poetry,  Geography, 
Moral  Essays,  the  divers  subjects  of  Philosophy, 
Travels,  Natural  History,  books  on  Sciences ;  and, 
in  short,  the  whole  range  of  book-knowledge  is  be- 
fore you :  but,  there  is  one  tiling  always  to  be  guard- 
ed against ;  and  that  is,  not  to  admire  and  applaud 
any  thing  you  read,  merely  because  it  is  the  fashion 
to  admire  and  applaud  it.  Read,  consider  well  what 
you  read,  form  your  own  judgment^  and  stand  by 
that  judgment  in  despite  of  the  sayings  of  what  are 
called  learned  men,  until  fact  or  argument  be  offered 
to  convince  you  of  your  error.  One  writer  praises 
another ;  and  it  is  very  possible  for  writers  so  to 
combine  as  to  cry  down,  and,  in  some  sort,  to  destroy 
the  reputation  of  any  one  who  meddles  with  the 
combination,  unless  the  person  thus  assailed  be 
blessed  with  uncommon  talent  and  uncommon  per- 
severance. When  I  read  the  works  of  Pope  and  of 
Swift,  I  was  greatly  delighted  with  their  lashing  of 
Dennis  ;  but  wondered,  at  the  same  time,  why  they 
slrould  have  taken  so  much  pains  in  running  down 
such  a  fool.  By  the  merest  accident  in  the  world, 
being  at  a  tavern  in  the  woods  of  America,  I  took  up 
an  old  book,  in  order  to  pass  away  the  time  while 
my  travelling  companions  were  drinking  in  the  next 
room;  but,  seeing  the  book  contained  the  criticisms 
of  Dennis,  I  was  about  to  lay  it  down,  when  the 
play  of  "Cato"  caught  my  eye  ;  and,  having  been 
accustomed  to  read  books  in  which  this  play  was 
lauded  to  the  skies,  and  knowing  it  to  have  been 
written  by  Addison,  every  line  of  whose  works  I 
had  been  taught  to  believe  teemed  with  wisdom  and 
genius,  I  coiideflcendod  to  begin  to  ixjad,  though  the 


I' 


■■I: 


V'  A. 


■A 


f 


i; , 

<     1                                         » 

•  ■  -'             *,  ■ 
1  ,' 

4 


1  J  =! 

!                    i 
.  1 

1 

1;';         i    •  „■•  ni 
i               1 

i|i||i:. 

I  11 

ilili 


C8 


cobbett's  advice 


iifiii 

'     ;l  111, 


ii!:r-' 


1:  ilili  i  I 


ii'iFi   'II 


it      t! 


!.;!i:, 


iit. 


ll  H; 


work  was  from  the  pen  of  that  fool  Dennis.  I  read 
on,  and  soon  began  to  laugh^  not  at  Dennis  but  at 
Addison.  I  laughed  so  much  and  so  loud,  that  the 
landlord,  who  was  in  the  passage,  came  in  to  see 
■what  I  was  laughing  at.  In  short,  I  found  it  a  most 
masterly  production,  one  of  the  most  witty  things 
that  I  had  ever  read  in  my  life.  I  was  delighted 
with  Dennis,  and  was  heartily  ashamed  of  my  form- 
er  admiration  of  Cato,  and  felt  no  little  resentment  I 
against  Pope  and  Swift  for  their  endless  reviling  of 
this  most  able  and  witty  critic.  This,  as  far  as  I 
recollect,  was  the  first  emancipation  that  had  assisted 
me  in  my  reading.  I  have,  since  that  time,  never 
taken  any  thing  upon  trust:  I  have  judged  for  my. 
self,  trusting  neither  to  the  opinions  of  writers  nor 
in  the  fashions  of  the  day.  Having  been  told  by 
Dr.  Blair,  in  his  lectures  on  Rhetoric,  that,  if  I 
meant  to  write  correctly,  I  must  "  give  my  days  and 
nights  to  Addison,"  I  read  a  few  numbers  of  the 
Spectator  at  the  time  I  was  writing  my  English 
Grammar:  I  gave  neither  my  nights  nor  my  days  to 
him  ;  but  I  found  an  abundance  of  matter  to  afford  ■ 
examples  of /a/sfi^am7war;  and,  upon  a  re-peni- 
sal,  I  found  that  the  criticisms  of  Dennis  might  have 
been  extended  to  this  book  too. 

T7.  But  that  which  never  ought  to  have  been  for- 
gotten by  those  who  were  men  at  the  time,  and  that 
which  ought  to  be  made  known  to  every  young  man 
of  the  present  day,  in  order  that  he  may  be  induced 
to  exercise  his  own  judgment  with  regard  to  books,  | 
is,  the  transactions  relative  to  the  writings  of  Shak- 
speare,  which  transactions  took  place  about  thirty  ■ 
years  ago.  It  is  still,  and  it  was  then  much  more,  I 
the  practice  to  extol  every  line  ♦  f  Shakspeare  to  the 
skies :  not  to  admire  Shakspea  ie  has  been  deemed 
to  be  a  proof  of  want  of  understanding  and  taste. 
Mr.  Garrick,  and  some  others  after  him,  had  their 
own  good  and  profitable  reasons  for  crying  up  the 
works  of  this  poet.  When  I  was  a  very  little  boy, 
there  was  a  julrilee  in  honour  of  Shakspeare,  and  as 
he  was  said  to  have  planted  a  Mnlberry-treej  boxes, 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


60 


and  other  little  ornamental  things  In  wood,  were 
sold  all  over  the  country,  as  having  been  made  out 
of  the  trunk  or  limbs  of  this  ancient  and  sacred  tree. 
We  Protestants  laugh  at  the  relics  so  highly  prized 
by  Catholics ;  but  never  was  a  Catholic  people  half 
so  much  duped  by  the  relics  of  saints,  as  this  nation 
was  by  the  mulberry  tree,  of  which,  probably,  more 
wood  was  sold  than  would  have  been  sufficient  in 
quantity  to  build  a  ship  ol  war,  or  a  large  house. 
This  madness  abated  for  some  years ;  but,  towards 
the  end  of  the  last  century^t  broke  out  again  with 
more  fury  than  ever.  Shakspeare's  works  were 
published  by  Boydeli.,  an  Alderman  of  London,  at  a 
subscription  oijive  hundreds  'pounds  for  each  copt/^ 
accompanied  by  plates,  each  forming  a  large  picture. 
Amongst  the  mad  men  of  the  day  was  a  Mr.  Ire- 
land, who  seemed  to  be  more  mad  than  any  of  the 
rest.  His  adoration  of  the  poet  led  him  to  perform 
a  pilgrimage  to  an  old  farm-house,  near  Stratford- 
upon-Avon,  said  to  have  been  the  birth-place  of  the 
poet.  Arrived  at  the  spot,  he  requested  the  farmer 
and  his  wife  to  let  him  search  the  house  for  papers, 
first  going  upon  Ms  knees,  and  praying,  in  the  poetic 
style,  the  gods  to  aid  him  in  his  quest.  He  found  no 
papers;  but  he  found  that  the  farmer's  wife,  in  clear- 
ing out  a  garret  some  years  before,  had  found  some 
I  rubbishy  old  papers  which  she  had  burnt,  and  which 
had  probably  been  papers  used  hi  the  wrapping  up 
of])igs'  cheeks  to  keep  them  from  the  bats.  "O, 
wretched  woman  I"  exclaimed  he;  "do  you  know 
what  you  have  done  ?"  "  O  dear,  no!"  said  the  wo- 
man, half  frightened  out  of  her  wits :  "no  harm,  I 
Ihope ;  for  the  papers  were  very  old  ;  I  dare  say  as 
[old  as  the  house  itself."  This  threw  him  into  an 
[additional  degree  of  excitement,  as  it  is  now  fashion- 
[ably  called :  he  raved,  he  stamped,  he  foamed,  and 
[at  last  quitted  the  house,  covering  the  poor  woman 
[with  every  term  of  reproach ;  and  hastening  back 
to  Stratford,  took  post-chaise  for  London,  to  relate 
[to  his  brother  madmen  the  horrible  sacrilege  of  this 
leathenish  woman.    Unfortunately  for  Mr.  Ireland, 


I-  J 


\ 


1 


I'. 


.'-«:. 

% 

■<>, 


i, 


m  ■! 


illli.i 


^w 


mm'' '  > 


M\ 


111 


m '  -li 


,''■1    ''I  !■! 


I    ''li     I 


I'i  li 


«> 


i; 


II     : 


70 


cobfett's  advice 


[Letter 


unfortunately  for  his  learned  brothers  in  the  metro- 
polis, and  unfortunately  for  the  reputation  of  Shak- 
SPEARE,  Mr.  Ireland  took  with  him  to  the  scene  of 
his  adoration  a  sotij  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  who 
was  articled  to  an  attorney  in  London.  The  son 
was  by  no  means  so  sharply  bitten  as  the  father; 
and,  upon  returning  to  town,  he  conceived  the  idea 
of  supplying  the  place  of  the  invaluable  papers  which 
the  farm-house  heathen  had  destroyed.  He  thought, 
and  he  thought  rightly,  that  he  should  have  little 
difficulty  in  writing  plays  jws^  like  those  of  Shah 
speare !  To  get  paper  that  should  seem  to  have 
been  made  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  ink 
that  should  give  to  writing  the  appearance  of  having 
the  same  age,  was  somewhat  difficult ;  but  both  were 
overcome.  Young  Ireland  was  acquainted  with  a  \ 
son  of  a  bookseller,  who  dealt  in  old  books :  the  blank " 
leaves  of  these  books  supplied  the  young  author  with 
paper :  and  he  found  out  the  way  of  making  proper 
ink  for  his  purpose.  To  work  he  went,  wrote  seve- 
ral plays,  some  love-letters,  and  other  things ;  and 
having  got  a  Bible,  extant  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare, 
he  wrote  notes  in  the  margin.  All  these,  together 
with  sonnets  in  abundance,  and  other  little  detached 
pieces,  he  produced  to  his  father,  telling  him  he  got 
them  from  a  gentleman,  who  had  ma(&  him  swear 
that  he  would  not  divulge  his  name.  The  father  an- 
nounced the  invaluable  discovery  to  the  literary 
world :  the  literary  world  rushed  to  him ;  the  manu 
scripts  were  regarded  as  genuine  by  the  most  grave 
«nd  learned  Doctors,  some  of  whom  (and  amongst 
these  were  Doctors  Parr  and  Warton)  gave,  2m(/tr 
their  hands,  an  opinion,  that  the  manuscripts  mmi 
have  been  written  by  Shakspeare  ;  for  that  no  other 
man  in  the  world  coidd  have  been  capable  oftmting 
them  ! 

78.  Mr.  Ireland  opened  a  subscription,  published 
these  new  and  invaluable  manuscripts  at  an  enor- 
mous price ;  and  preparations  were  instantly  made 
for  performing  one  of  the  p/ayi»,  called  Vorticeiw. 
Soon  after  the  acting  of  the  play,  the  indiscretion  of 


i 


w.j 


TO  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


71 


the  lad  caused  the  secret  to  explode ;  and,  instantly, 
those  who  had  declared  that  he  had  written  as  well 
as  Shakspeare,  did  every  thing  in  their  power  to  de- 
stray  him !  The  attorney  drove  him  from  his  office ; 
the  father  drove  him  from  his  house;  and,  in  short, 
he  was  hunted  down  as  if  he  had  been  a  malefactor 
of  the  worst  description.  The  truth  of  this  relation 
is  undeniable ;  it  is  recorded  in  numberless  books. 
The  young  man  is,  I  believe,  yet  alive;  and,  in 
j  short,  no  man  will  question  any  one  of  the  facts. 

79.  After  this,  where  is  the  person  of  sense  who 

I  will  be  guided  in  these  matters  by  fashion  7  where 

I  is  the  man,  who  wishes  not  to  be  deluded,  who  will 

not,  when  he  has  read  a  book,  judge  for  himself  7 

After  all  these  jubilees  and  pilgrimages ;  after  Boy- 

dkll's  subscription  of  500Z.  for  one  single  copy ; 

[after  it  had  been  deemed  almost  impiety  to  doubt  of 

the  genius  of  Shakspeare  surpassing  that  of  all  the 

|rest  of  mankind ;  after  he  had  been  called  the  "  /m- 

nortal  Bard^^"^  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  we  speak  of 

losEs  and  Aaron,  there  having  been  but  one  of  each 

(n  the  world ;  after  all  this,  comes  a  lad  of  sixteen 

^earsof  age, writes  that  which  learned  Doctors  declare 

jonld  have  been  written  by  no  man  but  Shakspeare, 

md,  when  it  is  discovered  that  this  laughing  boy  is 

fhe  real  author,  the  Doctors  turn  round  upon  him, 

vith  all  the  newspapers,  magazines,  and  reviews, 

md,  of  course,  the  public  at  their  back,  revile  him 

is  an  impostor  ;  and,  under  that  odious  name,  hunt 

lim  out  of  society,  and  doom  him  to  starve !    This 

[esson,  at  any  rate,  he  has  given  us :  not  to  rely  on 

ic  judgment  of  Doctors  and  other  pretenders  to 

[itcrary  superiority.    Every  young  man,  when  he 

\kcs  up  a  book  for  the  first  time,  ought  to  reniom- 

|er  this  story ;  and  if  he  do  remember  it,  ho  wifl 

jisvpfTard  fashion  v.iHi  regard  to  the  book,  and  will 

jay  little  attention  to  the  decision  of  those  who  call 

irmselves  critics. 

80.  I  hope  that  your  taste  would  keep  you  aloof 
jroin  the  writings  of  those  detestable  villains,  who 
|Tiploy  the  powciM  of  their  niind  in  debauching  tho 


I'     > 
1 


t  :" 


!i:;. 


r1! 


■",i 


^  .1'  4 

:  '  i 


I  rV  it 


4^ 


'^:l 


« 


COBBETP'ti  ADVICE 


!; 


'■i::lli 


i'  ^"'!i 


minds  of  others,  or  in  endeavours  to  do  it.  They 
present  their  poison  in  such  captivating  forms,  that 
It  requires  great  virtue  and  resolution  to  withstand 
their  temptations  ;  and,  they  have,  perhaps,  done  a 
thousand  times  as  much  mischief  in  the  world  as  all 
the  infidels  and  atheists  put  together.  These  men 
ought  to  be  called  literary  pimps:  th^y  ought  to 
be  held  in  universal  abhorrence,  and  never  spoken 
of  with  but  execration.  Any  appeal  to  bad  passions 
is  to  be  despised ;  any  appeal  to  ignorance  and  pre- 
judice ;  but  here  is  an  appeal  to  the  frailties  of  human 
nature,  and  an  endeavour  to  make  the  mind  corrupt, 
just  as  it  is  beginning  to  possess  its  powers.  I  have 
never  known  any  but  bad  men,  worthless  men,  men 
unworthy  of  any  portion  of  respect,  who  took  delight 
in,  or  even  kept  in  their  possession,  writings  of  the  de- 
scription to  which  I  here  allude.  The  writings  of  Swift 
have  this  blemish ;  and,  though  he  is  not  a  teacher 
of  lewdness,  but  rather  the  contrary,  there  are  cer- 
tain parts  of  his  poems  which  are  much  too  filthy  for 
any  decent  person  to  read.  It  was  beneath  him  to  stoop 
to  such  means  of  setting  forth  that  wit  which  would 
have  been  far  more  brilliant  without  them.  I  have 
heard,  that,  in  the  library  of  what  is  called  an  "  illm- 
trious  person,"  sold  some  time  ago,  there  was  an 
immense  collection  of  books  of  this  infamous  de- 
scription ;  and  from  this  circumstance,  if  from  no 
other,  I  should  have  formed  my  judgment  of  the 
character  of  that  person. 

81.  Besides  reading,  a  young  man  ought  to  write, ! 
if  he  have  the  capacity  and  the  leisure.    If  you  wish  || 
to  remember  a  thing  well,  put  it  into  writing,  even 
if  you  burn  the  paper  immediately  after  you  have 
done ;  for  the  eye  greatly  assists  the  mind.  Memory 
consists  of  a  concatenation  of  ideas,  the  place,  the 
time,  and  other  circumstances,  lead  to  the  recollec- 
tion of  facts  ;  and  no  circumstance  more  effectually  |] 
tlian    stating   the  facts  upon  paper.     A  Journal  ' 
should  be  kept  by  every  young  man.    Put  doM 
something  against  every  day  in  the  year,  if  it  be  | 
merely  a  description  of  the  weather.    V ou  will  not 


'W 


TO  A  LOVER. 


73 


have  done  this  for  one  year  without  finding  the  bene- 
fit ofit.  It  disburthens  the  mind  of  many  things  to 
be  recollected ;  it  is  amusing  and  useful,  and  ought 
by  no  meang  to  be  neglected.  How  often  does  it  hap- 
pen that  we  cannot  make  a  statement  of  facts,  some- 
times very  interesting  to  ourselves  and  mir  friends, 
for  the  want  of  a  record  of  the  places  where  we  were, 
and  of  things  that  occurred  on  such  and  such  a  day  I 
How  often  does  it  happen  that  we  get  into  disagree-  i 
able  disputes  about  things  that  have  passed,  and 
about  the  time  and  other  circumstances  attending 
them !  As  a  thing  of  mere  curiosity,  it  is  of  some 
value,  and  may  frequently  prove  of  very  great  utility. 
It  demands  not  more  than  a  minute  in  the  twenty- 
four  hours ;  and  that  minute  is  most  agreeably  and 
advantageously  employed.  It  tends  greatly  to  pro- 
duce regularity  in  the  conducting  of  affairs :  it  is  a 
thing  demanding  a  small  portion  of  attention  once  in 
everyday :  I  myself  have  found  it  to  be  attended  with 
great  and  numerous  benefits,  and  I  therefore  strongly 
recommend  it  to  the  practice  of  every  reader. 


LETTER  III. 


TO  A  LOVER. 


v 


I)' 

t,  ■ 

f 


Hi 

ii 


f, 


.A 

•Ji 


J. 
* 

I 


82.  There  arc  two  descriptions  of  Lovers  on 
Iwhom  all  advice  would  be  wasted  ;  namely,  those  in 
jwhose  minds  passion  so  wholly  overpowers  reason 
IS  to  deprive  the  party  of  his  sober  senses.  Few 
)eople  are  entitled  to  more  compassion  than  young 
ueii  thus  alfecled :  it  is  a  species  of  insanity  that 
assails  them ;  and,  when  it  produces  self-destruction, 
kvliich  it  docg  in  England  more  frequently  than  in  all 
[he  otlior  countries  in  the  world  put  together,  the 
lortal  remains  of  the  sufferer  ought  to  be  dealt  with 

7 


nr 


Mil  "t 

ill"' 

II 


'[III'  ! 


Vl 


m 

i': 


i;,i. 


i"  ('i 


M 

\m4 


mv. 


l:i 


m 


lii;!'il 


74 


cobbeItt's  advice 


[Letter" 


in  as  tender  a  manner  as  that  of  which  the  most  mer- 
ciful construction  of  the  law  will  allow.  If  Sir  Samuel 
Romilly's  remains  werojas  they  were,in  fact,treated  as 
those  of  a  person  labouring  under  "  temporai'y  men- 
ial deraiigemenij"  surely  the  youth  who  destroys  his 
life  on  account  of  unrequited  love,  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered in  as  mild  a  light !  Sir  Samuel  was  repre- 
sented, in  the  evidence  taken  before  the  Coroner's 
Jury,  to  have  been  inconsoktble  for  the  loss  of  his 
wife  ;  that  this  loss  had  so  dreadful  an  effect  upon 
his  mind,  that  it  bereft  Ziirn  of  his  reason,  made  life 
insupportable,  and  led  him  to  commit  the  act  of  stii- 
cide :  and,  on  this  ground  alone,  his  remains  and  his 
estate  were  rescued  from  the  awful,  though  just  and 
wise,  sentence  of  the  law.  But,  unfortunately  for 
the  reputation  of  the  administration  of  that  just  and 
wise  law,  there  had  been,  only  about  two  years  be- 
fore, a  poor  man,  at  Manchester,  buried  in  cross- 
roads, and  under  circumstances  which  entitled  his 
remains  to  mercy  much  more  clearly  than  in  the 
case  of  Sir  Samuel  Romilly. 

83.  This  unfortunate  youth,  whose  name  was 
Smith,  and  who  was  a  shoemaker,  was  in  love  with 
a  young  woman,  who,  in  spite  of  all  his  importuni- 
ties and  his  proofs  of  ardent  passion,  refused  to 
marry  him,  and  even  discovered  her  liking  for  ano- 
ther ;  and  he,  unable  to  support  life,  accompanied 
by  the  thought  of  her  being  in  possession  of  any 
body  but  himself,  put  an  end  to^  his  life  by  the 
means  of  a  rope.  If,  in  any  case,  we  are  lo  presume 
the  existence  of  insanity ;  if,  in  an)r  case,  we  are  led 
to  believe  the  thing  without  positive  proof;  if,  in 
any  case,  there  can  be  an  apology  in  human  nature 
itself,  for  such  an  act ;  this  was  that  case.  "We  all 
know  (as  I  observed  at  the  time ;)  that  is  to  say,  all 
of  us  who  cannot  wait  to  calculate  upon  the  gains 
and  losses  of  the  affair ;  all  of  us,  except  those  who 
are  endowed  with  this  provident  frigidity,  know  well 
what  youthful  love  is ;  and  what  its  torments  are, 
w^hen  accompanied  by  even  the  smallest  portion  of 
jealousy.   Every  man,  and  especially  every  English- 


I 


»ill!ilJL !  ji  i ! 


mm 


III.] 


TD  A  LOVER. 


75 


I*.  [ 


any 
the 


\ 


man  (for  here  we  seldom  love  or  hate  by  halves,) 
will  recollect  how  many  mad  pranks  he  has  played ; 
how  many  wild  and  ridiculous  things  he  has  said 
and  done  between  the  age  of  sixteen  and  that  of 
twenty-two ;  how  many  times  a  kind  glance  has 
scattered  all  his  reasoning  and  resolutions  to  the 
vands ;  how  many  times  a  cool  look  has  plunged 
him  into  the  deepest  misery  !  Poor  Smith  who  was 
at  this  age  of  love  and  madness,  might,  surely,  be 
presumed  to  have  done  the  deed  in  a  moment  of 
"  temporary  mental  deraiig'emenV^  He  was  an  ob- 
ject of  compassion  in  every  humane  breast :  he  had 
parents  and  brethren  and  kindred  and  friends  to 
lament  his  death,  and  to  feel  shame  at  the  disgrace 
inflicted  on  his  lifeless  body :  yet,  HE  was  pronoun- 
ced to  be  afelo  de  se,  or  selfmurderer^  and  his  body 
was  put  into  a  hole  by  the  way-side,  with  a  stake 
driven  down  through  it ;  while  that  of  Romilly  had 
mercy  extended  to  it,  on  the  ground  that  the  act  had 
been  occasioned  by  "  temporary  mental  deraii^e- 
menti^^  caused  by  his  grief  for  the  death  of  his  wife  ! 
84.  To  reason  with  passion  like  that  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Smith,  is  perfectly  useless ;  you  may,  with  as 
much  chance  of  success,  reason  and  remonstrate 
with  the  winds  or  the  waves :  if  you  make  impres- 
sion, it  lasts  but  for  a  moment :  your  effort,  like  an 
inadequate  stoppage  of  waters,  only  adds,  in  the  end, 
to  the  violence  of  the  torrent ;  the  current  must  have 
and  will  have  its  course,  be  the  consequences  what 
they  may.  In  cases  not  quite  so  decided,  absence, 
the  sight  of  new  faces,  the  sound  of  new  voices,  ge- 
nerally serve,  if  not  as  a  radical  cure,  as  a  mitigation, 
at  least,  of  the  disease.  But,  the  worst  of  it  is,  that, 
on  this  point,  we  have  the  girls  (and  women  too) 
against  us!  For  they  look  upon  it  as  right  that 
every  lover  should  be  a  little  maddish  /  and,  every 
attempt  to  rescue  him  from  the  thraldom  imposed 
by  their  charms,  they  look  upon  as  an  overt  act  of 
treason  against  their  natural  sovereignty.  No  girl 
ever  liked  a  young  man  less  for  his  having  done 
things  foolish  and  wild  and  ridiculous,  provided  she 


'i 


^ 


tjii  ' ' '« 1 


76 


COBBETt*S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


m  ^ 


■<•  i 


.'li    1 


hi 


;("■ '"HI'I 


was  sure  that  love  of  her  had  been  the  cause :  let 
her  but  be  satisfied  upon  this  score,  and  there  are 
very  few  things  which  she  will  not  forgive.  And, 
though  wholly  unconscious  of  the  fact,  she  is  a 
great  and  sound  philosopher  after  all.  For,  from 
the  nature  of  things,  the  rearing  of  a  family  always 
has  been,  is,  and  must  ever  be,  attended  with  cares 
and  troubles,  which  must  infallibly  produce,  at  times, 
feelings  to  be  combated  and  overcome  by  nothing 
short  of  that  ardent  affection  which  first  brought  the 
parties  together.  So  that,  talk  as  long  as  Parson 
Malthus  likes  about  "moral  restrai7it ;"  and  report 
as  long  as  the  Committees  of  Parliament  piease 
about  preventing  ^^prematur'e  and  improvident  mar- 
riages" amongst  the  labouring  classes,  the  passion 
that  they  would  restrain,  while  it  is  necessary  to 
the  existence  of  mankind^  is  the  greatest  of  all  the 
compensations  for  the  mevitable  cares,  troubles, 
hardships,  and  sorrows  of  life ;  and,  as  to  the  mar- 
riages,  if  they  could  once  be  rendered  universally 
provident,  every  generous  sentiment  would  quickly 
be  banished  from  the  world. 

85.  The  other  description  of  lovers,  with  whom 
it  is  useless  to  reason,  are  those  who  love  according 
to  the  rules  of  arithmetic,  or  who  measure  their  ma- 
trimonial expectations  by  the  cJiain  of  the  land-sur- 
•oeyor.  These  are  not  love  and  marriage ;  they  are 
bargain  and  sale.  Young  men  will  naturally,  and 
almost  necessarily,  fix  their  choice  on  young  women 
in  their  own  rank  in  life ;  because  from  habit  and 
intercourse  they  will  know  them  best.  But,  if  the 
length  of  the  girl's  purse,  present  or  contingent,  be 
a  consideration  with  the  man,  or  the  length  of  his 
purse,  present  or  contingent,  be  a  consideration  with 
her,  it  is  an  affair  of  bargain  and  sale.  I  know  that 
kings,  princes,  and  princesses  are,  in  respect  of  mar- 
riage, restrained  by  the  law ;  I  know  that  nobles,  if 
not  thus  restrained  by  positive  law,  are  restrained, 
in  fact,  by  the  very  nature  of  their  order.  And  here 
is  a  disadvantage  which,  as  far  as  real  enjoyment  of 
life  is  concerned,  moye  than  counterbalances  all  the 


i 


IILJ 

advant 

commi 

pursue 

proach 

by  mai 

as  you 

gar  ric 

ration  a 

thereb) 

of  misf 

riages" 

themse 

poverty 

m  spite 

conduc 

balance 

bles,  an 

than  dii 

that  car 

best  pos 

WORCES 

the  snee 
a  beauti 
the  pres 
drive  hi 
a  source 
might  fa 
to  all  thi 
the  fepr 
humble '. 
t  86.  If 
any  circ 
it  be,  gei 
tion,  oni 
under  so 
sake  of 
ought  to 
day  of  y 
nous  wo] 
mother, 
the  sight 


IILJ 


TO  A  LOVER« 


77 


i».   t 


\: 


advantages  that  they  posses*  over  the  rest  of  the 
community.  This  disadvantage,  generally  speaking, 
pursues  rank  and  riches  downwards,  till  you  ap- 
proach very  nearly  to  that  numerous  class  who  live 
by  manual  labour,  becoming,  however,  less  and  less 
as  you  descend.  You  generally  find  even  very  vul- 
gar rich  men  making  a  sacrifice  of  their  natural  and 
rational  taste  to  their  mean  and  ridiculous  pride,  and 
thereby  providing  for  themselves  an  ample  supply 
of  misery  for  life.  By  preferring  ^^ provident  mar- 
riages" to  marriages  of  love,  they  think  to  secure 
themselves  against  all  the  evils  of  poverty;  but  i;f 
poverty  come,  and  come  it  may,  and  frequently  does, 
m  spite  of  the  best  laid  plans,  and  best  modes  of 
conduct;  if  poverty  come,  then  where  is  the  counter- 
balance for  that  ardent  mutual  affection,  which  trou- 
bles, and  losses,  and  crosses  always  increase  rather 
than  diminish,  and  which,  amidst  all  the  calamities 
that  can  befall  a  man,  whispers  to  his  heart,  that  his 
best  possession  is  still  left  him  unimpaired  ?  The 
Worcestershire  Baronet,  who  has  had  to  endure 
the  sneers  of  fools  on  account  of  his  marriage  with 
a  beautiful  and  virtuous  servant  maid,  would,  were 
the  present  ruinous  measures  of  tlie  Government  to 
drive  him  from  his  mansion  to  a  cottage,  still  have 
a  source  of  happiness ;  while  many  of  those,  who 
might  fall  in  company  with  him,  would,  in  addition 
to  all  their  other  troubles,  have,  perhaps,  to  endure 
the  reproaches  of  wives  to  whom  poverty,  or  even 
humble  lif  >,  would  be  insupportable, 
t  86.  If  i;..arrying  for  the  sake  of  money  be,  under 
any  circumstances,  despicable,  if  not  disgraceful ;  if 
it  be,  generally  speaking,  a  species  of  legal  prostitu- 
'  tion,  only  a  little  less  shameful  than  that  which, 
under  some  governments,  is  openly  licensed  for  the 
sake  of  a  tax ;  if  this  be  the  case  generally,  what 
ought  to  be  said  of  a  young  man,  who,  in  the  hey- 
day of  youth,  should  couple  himself  on  to  a  libidi- 
nous woman,  old  enough,  perhaps,  to  be  his  grand- 
mother, ugly  as  the  night-mare,  offensive  alike  to 
the  sight  and  the  smell,  and  who  should  pretend  to 

7* 


m 


r 


i 


:  ^1 

'4 


-•■S  I 


:|i 


•li- 


i  '    HI 

.1 


'■ 


78 


cobbett's  advice 


LLetter 


'I  ii 


!■>•■  'I 


m-  ir    ! 


love  her  too:  and  all  this  merely  for  the  sake  of  hti 
money  ?  Why,  it  ought,  and  it,  doubtless,  would  ir : 
said  of  him,  that  his  conduct  was  a  libel  on  both  man 
and  woman-kind  j  that  his  name  ought,  for  ever,  to 
be  synonymous  with  baseness  and  nastiness,  and 
that  in  no  age  and  in  no  nation,  not  marked  by  a 
general  depravity  of  manners,  and  total  absence  of 
all  sense  of  shame,  every  associate,  male  or  female, 
of  such  a  man,  or  of  his  filthy  mate,  would  be  held 
in  abhorrence.  Public  morality  would  drive  such  a 
hateful  pair  from  society,  and  strict  justice  would 
hunt  them  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

87.  BuoNAPARTK  could  uot  be  said  to  marry  for 
money,  but  his  motive  was  little  better.  It  was  for 
dominion,  for  power,  for  ambition,  and  that,  too,  of 
the  most  contemptible  kind.  I  knew  an  American 
Gentleman,  with  whom  Buonaparte  had  always 
been  a  great  favourite;  but  the  moment  the  news 
arrived  of  his  divorce  and  second  marriage,  he  gave 
him  up.  This  piece  of  grand  prostitution  was  too 
much  to  be  defended.  And  the  truth  is,  that  Buona- 
parte might  have  dated  his  decline  from  the  day  of 
that  marriage.  My  American  friend  said,  "  If  I  had 
been  he,  I  would,  in  the  first  place,  have  married  the 

Soorest  and  prettiest  girl  in  all  France."  If  he  had 
one  this,  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  now  been 
on  an  imperial  throne,  instead  of  being  eaten  by 
worms,  at  the  bottom  of  a  very  deep  hole  in  Saint 
Helena ;  whence,  however,  his  bones  convey  to  the 
world  the  moral,  that  to  marry  for  money,  for  ambi- 
tion, or  from  any  motive  other  than  the  one  pointed 
out  by  aflfection,  is  not  the  road  to  glory,  to  happi- 
ness, or  to  peace. 

88.  Let  me  now  turn  from  these  two  descriptions 
of  lovers,  with  whom  it  is  useless  to  reason,  and  ad- 
dress myself  to  you,  my  reader,  whom  I  suppose  to 
be  a  real  lover,  but  not  so  smitten  as  to  be  bereft  of 
your  reason.  You  should  never  forget,  that  marri- 
age, which  is  a  state  that  every  young  person  ought 
to  have  in  view,  is  a  thing  to  last  far  life  ;  and  that, 
generally  speaking,  it  is  to  make  life  happy  or  mise- 


J 


III.  I 

I 

rahle; 
someth 
misery, 
oned  ai 
numerc 
the  mo 
panions 
cares,  tl 
I  say /( 
sioned.  ; 
cessary 
judgme 
reason  i 
here  off 
of  that 

89.  T 
wife  are 
gality; 
fairs;  7 

90.  I. 
and  eve 
female  i 
young  ^ 
ing  tov 
men ;  it 
eyes,  or 
hears  ai 
to  undet 
pressior 
is  a  djss 
then,  as 
in  persi 
ficient  t( 
nothing 
toms  of 
selves  7 
never  p( 
deryme 
mean  m 
fess  thai 
have  lil 


'# 


in.  I  '  •  h-O  A  tOVER.  70 

I 

rabki  for,  thougli  a  man  may  bring  his  mind  to 
something  nearly  a  state  of  indifference^  even  that  is 
misery,  except  with  those  who  can  hardly  be  reck- 
oned amongst  sensitive  beings.  Marriage  brings 
numerous  cares^  which  arc  amply  compensated  by 
the  more  numerous  delights  which  are  their  com- 
panions. But  to  have  the  delights,  as  well  as  the 
cares,  the  choice  of  the  partner  must  be  fortunate. 
I  say  fortunate  ;  for,  after  all,  love,  real  love,  impas- 
sioned, affection,  is  an  ingredient  so  absolutely  ne- 
cessary, that  no  perfect  reliance  can  be  placed  on  the 
judgment.  Yet,  the  judgment  may  do  something ; 
reason  may  have  some  influence ;  and,  therefore,  I 
here  offer  you  my  advice  with  regard  to  the  exercise 
of  that  reason. 

89.  The  things  which  you  ought  to  desire  in  a 
wife  are,  1.  Chastity ;  2.  sobriety ;  3.  industry ;  4.  fru- 
gality ;  5.  cleanliness ;  6.  knowledge  of  domestic  af- 
fairs ;  7.  good  temper ;  8.  beauty. 

90.  I.  Chastity,  perfect  modesty,  in  word,  deed, 
and  even  thought,  is  so  essential,  that,  without  it,  no 
female  is  fit  to  be  a  wife.  It  is  not  enough  that  a 
young  woman  abstain  from  every  thing  approach- 
ing towards  indecorum  in  her  behaviour  towards 
men ;  it  is,  with  me,  not  enough  that  she  cast  down  her 
eyes,  or  turn  aside  her  head  with  a  smile,  when  she 
hears  an  indelicate  allusion :  she  ought  to  appear  not 
to  understand  it,  and  to  receive  from  it  no  more  im- 
pression than  if  she  were  a  post.  A  loose  woman 
is  &  dissLgreeaihle  acquaintance :  what  must  she  be, 
then,  as  a  wife  7  Love  is  so  blind,  and  vanity  is  so  busy 
in  persuading  us  that  our  own  qualities  will  be  suf- 
ficient to  ensure  fidelity,  that  we  are  very  apt  to  think 
nothing,  or,  at  any  rate,  very  little,  of  trifling  symp- 
toms of  levity ;  but  if  such  symptoms  show  them- 
selves now,  we  may  be  well  assured,  that  we  shall 
never  possess  the  power  of  eftecting  a  cure.  If  pru.- 
dery  mean^tee  modesty,  it  is  to  be  despised ;  but  if  it 
mean  modesty  pushed  to  the  utmost  extent,  I  con- 
fess that  I  like  it.  Your  "free  and  hearty*^  girls  I 
have  liked  very  well  to  talk  and  laugh  with  j  but 


H 


I      1 


I   ■'! 


it ,'; 


i  1; 


?■„ 


p 


oobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


I 'I 


fll 


¥- 


l-v:::.i    ,  '■  'I. 


|:ii 


II 


!Hi! 


Ulii 


'iiii'i  '  -i 


never,  for  one  moment,  did  it  enter  liito  my  mind 
that  I  could  have  endured  a  "  free  and  hearty"  girl 
for  a  wife.  The  thing  is,  I  repeat,  to  last  for  life; 
it  is  to  be  a  counterbalance  for  troubles  and  misfor- 
tunes ;  and  it  must,  therefore,  be  perfect,  or  it  had 
better  not  be  at  all.  To  say  that  one  despise*  jealousy 
is  foolish :  it  is  a  thing  to  be  lamented ;  but  the  very 
elements  of  it  c^ight  to  be  avoided.  Gross  indeed  is 
the  beast,  for  he  is  unworthy  of  the  name  of  man ; 
nasty  indeed  is  the  wretch,  who  can  even  entertain 
the  thought  of  putting  himself  between  a  pair  of 
sheets  with  a  wife  of  whose  infidelity  he  possesses 
the  proof ;  but,  in  such  cases,  a  man  ought  to  be  very 
slow  to  believe  appearances;  and  he  ought  not  to  de- 
cide against  his  wife  but  upon  the  clearest  proof. 
The  last,  and,  indeed,  the  only  effectual  safeguard  is, 
to  begin  well ;  to  make  a  good  choice ;  to  let  the 
beginning  be  such  as  to  render  infidelity  and  jealousy 
next  to  impossible.  If  you  begin  in  grossness  i  if  yoii 
couple  yourself  on  to  one  with  whom  you  have 
taken  liberties,  infidelity  is  the  natural  and^'t^s^  con- 
sequence. When  the  Peer  of  the  realm,  who  had 
not  been  over-fortunate  in  his  matrimonial  affairs, 
was  urging  Major  Cartwright  to  seek  for  nothing 
more  than  "  moderate  reform,"  the  Major  (forgetting 
the  domestic  circumstances  of  his  Lordship)  asked 
him  how  he  should  relish  "  moderate  chastity"  in  a 
wife !  The  bare  use  of  the  two  words,  thus  coupled 
together,  is  sufficient  to  excite  disgust.  Yet  with 
this  ^^  moderate  chastity"  you  must  be,  and  ought  to 
be,  content,  if  you  have  entered  into  marriage  with 
one,  in  whom  you  have  ever  discovered  the  slightest 
approach  towards  lewdness,  either  in  deeds,  words, 
or  looks.  To  marry  has  been  your  own  act ;  you 
have  made  the  contract  for  your  own  gratification ; 
you  knew  the  character  of  the  other  party ;  and  the 
children,  if  any,  or  the  community,  are  not  to  be  the 
sufferers  for  your  gross  and  corrupt  passion.  "  Mo- 
derate chastity"  is  all  that  you  have,  in  fact,  con- 
tracted for :  you  have  it,  and  you  have  no  reason  to 
complain.    When  I  come  to  address  myself  to  the 


g 


I 


i 


m.] 

husban 
which 
my  oba 
lies  are 
"  vioder 
in  the  n 

9L 

an  abse 

if  that 

man! 

wine,  tl 

Whatev 

it  is  su 

ugliness 

r'atSj  poi 

woman, 

chaste,  i 

sented  i1 

requires 

dent  liqi 

say  on  t" 

husband 

in  need  c 

cases  of 

Si  glass  0 

have  ma] 

persuade 

of  wine  i 

such.a  gi 

streets. 

way  of  t 

mind  froi 

prettier  1 

gusting  a 

is  bad  eni 

an  appeti 

of  her  li; 

maybe  c 

such  as  r 

have  chil 

where  vei 


III.] 


TO  A  LOVER. 


81 


husband,  I  shall  have  to  say  more  upon  this  subject, 
which  I  dismiss  for  the  present  with  observing,  that 
my  observation  has  convinced  me,  that,  when  fami- 
lies are  rendered  unhappy  from  the  existence  of 
"  moderate  chastity,"  the  fault,  first  or  last,  has  been 
in  the  man,  ninety-nine  times  out  of  every  hundred. 
91.  Sobriety.    By  sobriety  I  do  not  mean  merely 
an  absence  oi  drinking  to  a  state  of  intoxication  ;  for, 
if  that  be  Imteful  in  a  man,  what  must  it  be  in  a  wo- 
man !    There  is  a  Latin  proverb,  which  says,  that 
wine,  that  is  to  say,  intoxication,  brings  forth  truth. 
Whatever  it  may  do  in  this  way,  in  men,  in  women 
it  is  sure,  unless  prevented  by  age  or  by  salutary 
ugliness,  to  produce  a  moderate,  and  a  mnj  mode- 
rate, portion  of  chastity.  There  never  was  a  drunken 
woman,  a  woman  who  loved  strong  drink,  who  was 
chaste,  if  the  opportunity  of  being  the  contrary  pre- 
sented itself  to  her.    There  are  cases  where  health 
requires  wine,  and  even  small  portions  of  more  ar- 
dent liquor ;  but  (reserving  what  I  have  farther  to 
say  on  this  point,  till  I  come  to  the  conduct  of  the 
husband)  young  unmarried  women  can  seldom  stand 
in  need  of  these  stimulants ;  and,  at  any  rate,  only  in 
cases  of  well-known  definite  ailments.  Wine !  "  only 
dL  glass  or  two  of  wine  at  dinner,  or  so !"  As  soon  as 
have  married  a  girl  whom  I  had  thought  liable  to  be 
persuaded  to  drink,  habitually,  "  only  a  glass  or  two 
of  wine  at  dinner,  or  soj"  as  soon  as  have  married 
such.a  girl,  I  would  have  taken  a  strumpet  from  the 
streets.    And  it  has  not  required  age  to  give  me  this 
way  of  thinking :  it  has  always  been  rooted  in  my 
mind  from  the  moment  that  I  began  to  think  the  girls 
prettier  than  posts.    There  are  few  things  so  dis- 
gusting as  a  guzzling  woman.    A  gormandizing  one 
is  bad  enough;  but,  one  who  tips  off  the  liquor  with 
an  appetite,  and  exclaims  ^^good!  good  /"  by  a  smack 
of  her  lips,  is  fit  for  nothing  but  a  brothel.    There 
may  be  cases,  amongst  the  /tarcMabouring  women, 
such  as  rrMpers,  for  instance,  especially  when  they 
have  children  at  the  breast;  there  may  be  cases, 
where  very  /tarcZ- working  women  ^lay  stand  in  need 


1             !,"* 

1 

,1  ■ 

1;; 

1 

iiri 

t 

7 

■ 

1 

9Pi'. 

■'f 

1 

1 

"    ! 

'  I 

$v\  !■ 


^r 


ilH;!-^.-^ 


■■>'* 


*i 


4   '^^' 


^ 


S' 


k 


t-ij 


'         i 


*  ?.  : 


M 

^w^^ 


COBBfiTX'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


If  ■  ^J'' 


i'^f' 


I'i. 


%■'  I 


.'i 


I':;   '   !' 


■!|  4' 


m\i 


of  a  little  ^oocZ  beer ;  beer,  which,  if  taken  in  immo- 
derate quantities,  would  produce  intoxication.  But, 
while  I  only  allow  the  possibility  of  the  existence  of 
such  cases,  I  deny  the  necessity  of  any  strong  drink 
at  all  in  every  other  case.  Yet,  in  this  metropolis,  it  is 
the  general  custom  for  tradesmen,  journeymen,  and 
even  labourers,to  have  regularly  on  their  tables  the  big 
brewers'  poison,  twice  in  every  day,  and  at  the  rate 
of  not  less  than  a  pot  to  a  person,  women,  as  well  as 
men,  as  the  allowance  for  the  day.  A  pot  of  poison 
a  day,  at  five  pence  the  pot,  amounts  to  seven  pounds 
ami  two  shillings  in  the  year !  Man  and  wife  suck 
down,  in  this  way ,  fourteen  pounds  four  shillings  a 
year !  Is  it  any  wonder  that  they  are  clad  in  rags, 
that  they  are  skin  and  bone,  and  that  their  children 
are  covered  with  filth  ? 

92.  But  by  the  word  Sobriety,  in  a  young  wo- 
man, I  mean  a  great  deal  more  th^n  even  a  rigid  ab- 
stinence from  that  love  of  drink^  which  I  am  not  to 
suppose,  and  which  I  do  not  believe,  to  exist  any 
thing  like  generally  amongst  the  young  women  of 
this  country.  I  mean  a  great  deal  more  than  this ; 
I  mean  sobriety  of  conduct.  The  word  sober ^  and  its 
derivatives,  do  not  confine  themselves  to  matters  of 
4fHnk :  they  express  steadiness,  seriousness,  careful- 
ness, scrupidous  })ropriety  of  conduct ;  and  they  are 
thus  used  amongst  country  people  in  many  parts  of 
England.  When  a  Somersetshire  fellow  makes  too 
free  with  a  girl,  she  reproves  him  with,  "  Come !  be 
sober  /"  And  when  we  wish  a  team,  or  any  thing, 
to  be  moved  on  steadily  and  with  great  care,  we 
cry  out  to  the  carter,  or  other  operator,  "  Soberly, 
sobei^lyy  Now,  this  species  of  sobriety  is  a  great 
qualification  in  the  person  you  mean  to  make  your 
wife.  Skipping,  capering,  romping,  rattling  girls 
are  very  amusing  where  all  costs  and  other  conse- 
quences are  out  of  the  question ;  and  they  may  be- 
come sober  in  the  Somersetshire  sense  of  the  word. 
But  while  you  have  no  certainty  of  this,  you  have  a 
presumptive  argument  on  the  other  side.  To  be 
sure,  when  girls  are  mere  children,  they  are  to  play 


\i 


III.] 

and  ro] 

that  ag 

sort  of 

when  1 

of  a  h( 

them  t( 

tural,  I 

childrei 

strange 

in  chile 

iDoman 

an  old 

qualitiei 

have  re 

which,  i 

minated 

part  of 

spite  of  i 

have  see 

have,  at 

prise,  tl: 

pulled  m 

nearly  f 

assailed 

fill  cnen 

with,  an 

cr  than  i 

requirini 

tal  exert 

throughc 

and  of  1{ 

of  7'eal  a 

to  me ; 

meaned ; 

than  an} 

ways  in 

should  I 

«nc^,  an( 

riches ;  ? 

care  to  p 

tliat «  sot 


m 


III.] 


TO  A   LOVER. 


83 


'o  be 
play 


and  romp  like  children.  But,  wlien  they  arrive  at 
that  age  which  turns  their  thoughts  towards  that 
sort  of  connexion  which  is  to  be  theirs  for  life; 
when  they  begin  to  think  of  having  the  command 
of  a  house,  however  small  or  poor,  it  is  time  for 
them  to  cast  away  the  levity  of  the  child.  It  is  na- 
tural, nor  is  it  very  wrong,  that  I  know  of,  for 
children  to  like  to  gad  about  and  to  see  all  sorts  of 
strange  sights,  though  I  do  not  approve  of  this  even 
in  children :  but,  if  I  could  not  have  found  a  young" 
woman  (and  I  am  sure  I  never  should  have  married 
an  old  one)  who  I  was  not  sure  possessed  all  the 
qualities  expressed  by  the  word  sobriety,  I  should 
have  remained  a  bachelor  to  the  end  of  that  life, 
which,  in  that  case,  would,  I  am  satisfied,  have  ter- 
minated without  my  having  performed  a  thousandth 
part  of  those  labours  which  have  been,  and  are,  in 
spite  of  all  political  prejudice,  the  wonder  of  all  who 
have  seen,  or  heard  of,  them.  Scores  of  gentlemen 
have,  at  different  times,  expressed  to  me  their  sur- 
prise, that  I  was  "  always  in  smrits  ;"  that  nothing 
pulled  me  down ;  and  the  trutn  is,  that,  throughout 
nearly  forty  years  of  troubles,  losses,  and  crosses, 
assailed  all  the  while  by  more  numerous  and  power- 
ful enemies  than  ever'  man  had  before  to  contend 
with,  and  performing,  at  the  same  time,  labours  great- 
er than  man  ever  before  performed ;  all  those  labours 
requiring  mental  exertion,  and  some  of  them  men- 
tal exertion  of  the  highest  order ;  the  truth  is,  that, 
throughout  the  whole  of  this  long  time  of  troubles 
and  of  labours,  I  have  never  known  a  single  hour 
of  7'eal  anxiety  ;  the  troubles  have  been  no  troubles 
to  me ;  I  have  not  known  what  loaoness  of  fpirUs 
meaned ;  have  been  more  gay,  and  felt  less  care, 
than  any  bachelor  that  ever  lived.  "  You  are  al- 
ways in  spirits^  Cobbett !"  To  be  sure ;  for  why 
should  I  not  ?  Poverty  I  have  always  set  at  defi- 
ance, and  I  could,  therefore,  defy  the  temptations  of 
riches ;  and,  as  to  Jiome  and  children^  I  had  taken 
care  to  provide  myself  witli  an  inexhaustible  store  of 
that "  sobrietyj''^  which  I  am  so  strongly  recommend- 


I  '; 


ill  \         \ 


■  »W  ■ 

I 


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84 


COBBETTS  ADVICE 


[Letter 


ing  my  reader  to  provide  himself  with  ;  or,  if  he  can- 
not do  that,  to  deliberate  long  before  he  ventures  on 
the  life-enduring  matrimonial  voyage.  This  sobri- 
ety is  a  title  to  trust-worthiness ;  and  this^  young 


man,  is  the 


treasure  that  you  ought  to  prize  far 


above  all  others.  Miserable  is  the  husband,  who, 
when  he  crosses  the  threshold  of  his  house,  carries 
with  him  doubts  and  fears  and  suspicions.  I  do  not 
mean  suspicions  of  the  fidelity  of  his  wife,  but  of  her 
care,  frugality,  attention  to  his  interests,  and  to  the 
health  and  morals  of  his  children.  Miserable  is  the 
man,  who  cannot  leave  all  unlocked^  and  who  is  not 
sure,  quite  certain,  that  all  is  as  safe  as  if  grasped 
in  his  own  hand.  He  is  the  happy  husbend,  who 
can  go  away,  at  a  moment's  warning,  leaving  his 
house  and  his  family  with  as  little  anxiety  as  he 
quits  an  inn,  not  more  fearing  to  find,  on  his  return, 
any  thing  wrong,  than  he  would  fear  a  discontinu- 
ance of  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  and  if,  as 
in  my  case,  leaving  books  and  papers  all  lying  about 
at  sixes  and  sevens,  finding  them  arranged  in  pro- 
per order,  and  the  room,  during  the  lucky  interval, 
freed  from  the  effects  of  his  and  his  ploughman's  or 
gardener's  dirty  shoes.  Such  a  man  has  no  r'eal 
cares  ;  such  a  man  has  no  troubles  ;  and  this  is  the 
sort  of  life  that  I  have  led.  I  have  had  all  the  nume- 
rous and  indescribable  delights  of  home  and  child- 
ren, and,  at  the  same  time,  all  the  bachelor's  freedom 
from  domestic  cares ;  and,  to  this  cause,  far  more 
than  to  any  other,  my  readers  owe  those  labours', 
which  I  never  could  have  performed,  if  even  the 
slightest  degree  of  want  of  confidence  at  home  had 
ever  once  entered  into  my  mind. 

93.  But,  in  order  to  possess  this  prccions  trustr 
worthiness,  you  must,  if  you  can,  exercise  your  rear 
son  in  llu'  ciioice  of  your  partner.  If  she  be  vain  of 
ln'V  p{>rH()ii,  very  fond  of  dress,  fond  of  Jlattcry 
ot  all,  given  to  ji^nddin^'  about,  fond  of  what  are 
railed  pirlivs  of  phui^iwc^,  or  coquetish,  though  in 
the  least  do</ree  ;  if  either  oftlu^se,  she  Uiiver  will 
be    trusl  worthy :  she  cannot  change  her  natun 


i 


"I! 


III.] 


IS,  m 


III.] 


TO  A  LOVER. 


85 


and,  if  you  marry  her,  you  will  be  unjust  if 
you  expect  trust-worthiness  at  her  hands.  But, 
besides  this,  even  if  you  find  in  her  that  innate 
"  sobrieiy,^^  of  which  I  have  been  speaking,  there 
requires,  on  your  part,  and  that  at  once  too,  con- 
fidence and  trust  without  any  limit.  Confidence 
is,  in  this  case,  nothing  unless  it  be  reciprocal. 
To  have  a  trust-worthy  wife,  you  must  begin 
by  showing  her,  even  before  yoa  are  married,  that 
you  have  no  suspicions,  no  fears,  no  doubts,  with 
regard  to  her.  Many  a  man  has  been  discarded  by 
a  virtuous  girl,  merely  on  account  of  his  querulous 
conduct.  AH  women  despise  jealous  men  ;  and,  if 
they  marry  such,  their  motive  is  other  than  that 
of  affection.  Therefore,  beg'in  by  proofs  of  unlimited 
confidence ;  and,  as  example  may  serve  to  assist 
precept,  and  as  I  never  have  preached  that  which  I 
have  not  practised,  I  will  gi  /e  you  the  history  of 
my  own  conduct  in  this  respect. 

94.  When  I  first  saw  my  wife,  she  was  thirteen 
years  o^and  I  was  within  about  a  month  oi  twenty-one. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  Serjeant  of  artillery,  and 
I  was  the  Serjeant-Major  of  a  regiment  of  foot,  both 
stationed  in  forts  near  the  city  of  St.  John  in  the 
Province  of  New-Brunswick.  I  sat  in  the  room 
with  her,  for  about  an  hour,  in  company  with 
others,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  she  was  the  very 
jrirl^  for  me.  That  I  thought  her  beautiful  is  certain, 
tor  "that  I  had  always  said  should  be  an  indispensa- 
ble qualification ;  but  I  saw  in  her  what  I  deemed 
marks  of  that  sobriety  oi  conduct  of  which  I  have  said 
so  much,  and  which  has  been  by  far  the  greatest 
blessing  of  my  life.  It  was  now  dead  of  winter,  and,  of 
course,  the  snow  several  feet  deep  on  the  ground, 
and  the  weatlier  piercing  cold.  It  was  my  habit, 
when  I  had  done  my  morning's  writing,  to  go  out 
at  break  of  day  to  take  a  walk  on  a  hill  at  the  foot  of 
which  our  barracks  lay.  In  about  three  mornings 
after  I  had  first  seen  her,  I  had,  by  an  invitation  to 
breakfast  with  me,  got  up  two  young  men  to  joiy 
)ne  in  my  walk  j  and  our  road  lay  bv  the  house  ot 

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86 


COBBETTS  ADVICE 


LLetter 


her  father  and  mother.  It  was  hardly  hght,  but  she 
was  out  on  the  snow,  scrubbing  out  a  washing-tub. 
"  That's  the  girl  for  me,"  said  I,  when  we  had  got 
out  of  her  hearing.  One  of  these  young  men  came 
to  England  soon  afterwards  ;  and  he,  who  keeps  an 
inn  in  Yorkshire,  came  over  to  Preston,  at  the  time 
of  the  election,  to  verify  whether  I  were  the  same 
man.  When  he  found  that  I  was,  he  appeared  sur- 
prised ;  but  what  was  his  surprise,  when  I  told  him, 
that  those  tall  young  men,  whom  he  saw  around 
me,  were  the  sans  of  that  pretty  little  girl  that  he 
and  I  saw  scrubbing  out  the  washing-tub  on  the  snow 
in  New-Brunswick  in  the  morning. 

95.  From  the  day  that  I  first  spoke  to  her,  I  never 
had  a  thought  of  her  ever  being  the  wife  of  any  other 
man,  more  than  I  had  a  thought  of  her  being  trans- 
•  )rmed  into  a  chest  of  drawers ;  and  I  formed  my 
resolution  at  once,  to  marry  her  as  soon  as  we  could 
get  permission,  and  to  get  out  of  the  army  as  soon 
:«^  I  could.  So  that  this  matter  was,  at  once,  settled 
as  firmly  as  if  written  in  the  book  of  fate.  At  the 
end  of  about  six  months,  my  regiment,  and  I  along 
with  it,  were  removed  to  Frederickton,  a  distance 
of  a  hundred  miles,  up  the  river  of  St.  John  ;  and, 
which  was  worse,  the  artillery  were  expected  to  go 
off  to  England  a  year  or  two  before  our  regiment ! 
The  artillery  went,  and  she  along  with  them  ;  and 
now  it  was  that  I  acted  a  part  becoming  a  real  and 
sensible  lover.  I  was  aware,  that,  when  she  got  to 
that  gay  place,  Woolwich,  the  house  of  her  father 
and  mother,  necessarily  visited  by  numerous  persons 
not  the  most  select,  might  become  unpleasant  to  her, 
and  I  did  not  like,  besides,  that  she  should  continue 
to  work  hard.  I  had  saved  a  hundred  and  fifty  gui- 
neas, the  earnings  of  my  i  arly  hours,  in  writing  for 
the  paymaster,  the  qi-artermaster,  ?iid  others,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  savings  of  my  own  pay.  I  sent  her  all 
my  money,  before  she  sailed ;  and  wrote  to  her  to  beg 
of  her,  if  she  found  her  home  uncomfortable,  to  hire 
a  lodging  with  respectable  people :  and,  at  any  rate, 
not  to  spare  the  money,  by  any  means  j  but  to  buy 


•!     r  (1 


in.]- 


TO  A  LOVER 


m 


herself  good  clothes,  and  to  live  without  hard  work, 
until  I  arrived  in  England ;  and  I,  in  order  to  induce 
her  to  lay  out  the  money,  told  her  that  I  should  get 
plenty  more  before  I  came  home. 

96.  As  the  malignity  of  the  devil  would  have  it, 
we  were  kept  abroad  two  years  longer  than  our  time, 
Mr.  Pitt  (England  not  being  so  tame  then  as  she  is 
now)  having  knocked  up  a  dust  with  Spain  about 
Nootka  Sound.  Oh,  how  I  cursed  Nootka  Sound, 
and  poor  bawling  Pitt  too,  I  am  afraid  !  At  the  end 
of  four  years^  however,  home  I  came ;  landed  at 
Portsmouth,  and  got  my  discharge  from  the  army 
by  the  great  kindness  of  poor  Lord  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald, who  was  then  the  Major  of  my  regiment. 
I  found  my  little  girl  a  servant  ofaU  work,  (and  hard 
work  it  was,)  at  Jive  powids  a  year,  in  the  house  of 
a  Captain  Brisac  ;  and,  without  hardly  saying  a 
word  about  the  matter,  she  put  into  my  hands  the 
whole  of  my  hundred  and  fifty  guineas  unbroken  ! 

97.  Need  I  tell  the  reader  what  my  feelings  were? 
Need  I  tell  kind-hearted  English  parents  what  effect 
this  anecdote  must  have  produced  on  the  minds  of 
our  children  ?  Need  I  attempt  to  describe  what  ef- 
fect this  example  ought  to  have  on  every  young 
woman  who  shall  do  me  the  honour  to  read  this 
book  ?  Admiration  of  her  conduct,  and  self-gratu- 
lation  on  this  indubitable  proof  of  the  soundness  of 
my  own  judgment  were  now  added  to  my  love  of 
her-beautiful  person. 

98.  Now,  I  do  not  say  that  there  are  not  many 
young  women  of  this  country  who  would,  under 
similar  circumstances,  have  acted  as  my  wife  did  in 
this  case ;  on  the  contrary,  I  hope,  and  do  sincerely 
believe,  that  there  are.  But  when  her  o^e  is  con- 
sidered ;  when  we  reflect,  that  she  was  living  in  a 
place  crowded,  literally  a'owded,  with  gayly-dressed 
and  handsome  young  men,  many  of  whom  really 
far  richer  and  in  higher  rank  than  I  wae,  and  scores 
of  them  ready  to  offer  her  their  hand  ;  when  we  re- 
flect that  she  was  living  amongst  young  women  who 
put  upon  their  backs  every  shilling  that  they  could 


fl 


■1 1 


'  !«»»,•. 


^' 


'-'     I   !         , 


11  •    ) 


/ 


88 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


come  at ;  when  we  see  her  keeping  the  bag  of  gold 
untouched,  and  working  hard  to  provide  herself  with 
but  mere  necessary  apparel,  and  doing  this  while 
she  was  passing  from  Jourteen  to  eighteen  years  of 
age;  when  we  view  the  whole  of  the  circumstances, 
we  must  say  that  here  is  an  example,  which,  while 
it  reflects  honour  on  her  sex,  ought  to  have  weight 
with  every  young  woman  whose  eyes  or  ears  this 
relation  shall  reach. 

99.  If  any  young  man  imagine,  that  this  great 
sobriety  of  conduct  in  young  women  must  be  accom- 
panied with  seriousness  approaching  to  glootn,  he  is, 
according  to  my  experience  and  observation,  very 
much  deceived.  The  contrary  is  the  fact ;  for  I  have 
found  that  as,  amongst  men,  your  jovial  companions 
are,  except  over  the  bottle,  the  dullest  and  most  in- 
sipid of  souls ;  so,  amongst  women,  the  gay,  the 
rattling  and  laughing  are,  unless  some  party  of  plea- 
sure, or  something  out  of  domestic  life,  is  going  on, 
generally  in  the  dumps  and  blue-devils.  Some  sti- 
mulus  is  always  craved  after  by  this  description  of 
women ;  some  sight  to  be  seen,  something  to  see  or 
to  hear  other  than  what  is  to  be  found  at  home, 
which,  as  it  affords  no  incitement,  nothing  "ifo  7'aise 
and  keep  up  the  spirits,^^  is  looked  upon  merely  as  a 
place  to  be  at  for  want  of  a  better ;  merely  a  place 
for  eating  and  drinking,  and  the  like ;  merely  a  hid- 
ing place,  whence  to  sally  in  search  of  enjoyments. 
A  greater  curse  than  a  wife  of  this  description,  it 
would  be  somewhat  difficult  to  find ;  and,  in  your 
character  of  Lover,  you  are  to  provide  against  it. 
I  hate  a  dull,  melancholy,  moping  thing :  I  could  not 
have  existed  in  the  same  house  with  such  a  thing 
for  a  single  month.  The  mopers  are,  too,  all  giggle 
at  other  times :  the  gaiety  is  for  others,  and  the  mo- 
ping for  the  husband,  to  comfort  him,  happy  man, 
when  he  is  alone:  plenty  of  smiles  and  of  badinage 
for  others,  and  for  him  to  participate  with  others ; 
but  the  moping  is  reserved  exclusively  for  him.  One 
hour  she  is  capering  about,  asi  if  rehearsing  a  jig; 
and,  the  next,  sighing  to  the  motion  of  a  lazy  needle, 


in.l 

or  w« 

ment 

tohei 

house 

encon 

food  ( 

an  aff< 

of  hal 

Let  ai 

deligh 

pie  foi 

pride  t 

deduct 

observ 

like  a  ] 

paring 

both  at 

should 

serve,  i 

real  mi 

unequi 

and,  ha 

and  we 

is  chooi 

ought  t 

on  a  Si 

arms,  Ic 

tween  t 

the  3oo 

ing  obj( 

to  be  be 

In  Fran 

dunghei 

the  Sam 

In  ridin 

to  Hors 

to  a  sol 

3^rds  d 

with  th 

another 

before  Ih 


Wail.,:,:;! 


'?€' 

■,#■ 


III.1 


TO  A  LOVER. 


89 


m,  it 


or  weeping  over  a  novel :  and  this  is  called  senti- 
Tnent !  Music,  indeed !  Give  me  a  mother  singing 
to  her  clean  and  fat  and  rosy  baby,  and  making  the 
house  ring  with  her  extravagant  and  hyperbolical 
encomiums  on  it.  That  is  the  music  which  is  "  the 
food  of  lone;'*'*  and  not  the  formal,  pedantic  noises, 
an  affectation  of  skill  in  which  is  now-a-days  the  ruin 
of  half  the  young  couples  in  the  middle  rank  of  life. 
liCt  any  man  observe,  as  I  so  frequently  have,  with 
delight,  the  excessive  fondness  of  the  labouring  peo- 
ple for  their  children.  Let  him  observe  with  what 
pride  they  dress  them  out  on  a  Sunday,  with  means 
deducted  from  their  own  scanty  meals.  Let  him 
observe  the  husband,  who  has  toiled  all  the  week 
like  a  horse,  nursing  the  baby,  while  the  wife  is  pre- 
paring the  bit  of  dinner.  Let  him  observe  them 
both  abstaining  from  a  sufficiency,  lest  the  children 
should  feel  the  pinchings  of  hunger.  Let  him  ob- 
serve, in  short,  the  whole  of  their  demeanour,  the 
real  mutual  affection,  evinced,  not  in  words,  but  in 
unequivocal  deeds.  Let  him  observe  these  things, 
and,  having  then  cast  a  look  at  the  lives  of  the  great 
and  wealthy,  he  will  say,  with  me,  that,  when  a  man 
is  choosing  his  partner  for  life,  the  dread  of  poverty 
ought  to  be  cast  to  the  winds.  A  labourer's  cottage, 
on  a  Sunday ;  the  husband  or  wife  having  a  baby  in 
arms,  looking  at  two  or  three  older  ones  playing  be- 
tween the  flower-borders  going  from  the  wicket  to 
the  cloor,  is,  according  to  my  taste,  the  most  interest- 
ing object  that  eyes  ever  beheld ;  and,  it  is  an  object 
to  be  beheld  in  no  country  upon  earth  but  England. 
In  France,  a  labourer's  cottage  means  a  sJied  with  a 
dwnghea'p  before  the  door  j  and  it  means  much  about 
the  same  in  America,  where  it  is  wholly  inexcusable. 
In  riding  once,  about  five  years  ago,  from  Petworth 
to  Horsham,  on  a  Sunday  in  the  afternoon,  I  came 
to  a  solitary  cottage  which  stood  at  about  twenty 
yards  distance  from  the  road.  There  was  the  wife 
with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  the  husband  teaching 
another  child  to  walk,  while /bwr  more  were  at  play 
before  them.    J  stopped  and  looked  at  them  for  gome 

8* 


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cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


•'  .  Si 


L.    h. 


-!  ^  i 


!ll.:ii 


time,  and  ilicn,  turning  my  horse,  rode  up  to  the 
wicket,  getting  into  taiic  by  asking  the  distance  to 
Horsliam.  I  found  that  the  man  worked  cliieiiy  in 
the  woods,  and  that  he  was  doing  pretty  well.  The 
wife  was  then  only  twcnty-iwo\  and  the  man  only 
twenty-floe.  She  was  a  pretty  woman,  even  for 
Sussex^  which,  not  excepting  Lancashire,  coniaiiis 
the  prettiest  women  in  England.  He  was  a  very  iine 
and  stout  young  man.  "  Why,"  said  i,  "  how  many 
children  do  you  reckon  to  have  at  last  .^"  "I  do  not 
care  how  many,"  said  the  man :  "  God  never  sends 
mouths  without  sending  meat."  "  Did  you  ever 
hear,"  said  J,  "  of  one  Parson  Malthds  ?"  "  No, 
sir."  "  Why,  if  he  were  to  hear  of  your  works,  he 
would  be  outrageous ;  for  he  wants  an  act  of  parlia- 
ment 10  prevent  poor  people  from  marrying  young, 
and  from  having  such  lOts  of  children."  "  Oti !  the 
brute!"  exclaimed  the  wife;  while  the  husband 
laughed,  thinking  that  I  was  joking.  I  asked  the 
man  whether  he  had  ever  had  relief  from  the  'pa- 
rish ;  and  upon  his  answering  in  the  negative,  I 
took  out  my  purse,  took  from  it  enough  to  bait  my 
horse  at  Horsham,  and  to  clear  my  turnpikes  to 
Worth,  whither  T  was  going  in  order  to  stay  awhile, 
and  gave  him  all  the  rest.  Now,  i'^  it  not  a  shame, 
is  it  not  u  sin  of  all  sins,  that  people  like  these  should, 
by  acts  of  the  government,  be  reduced  to  such  mise- 
ry as  to  be  induced  to  abandon  their  homes  and  their 
country,  to  seek,  in  a  foreign  land,  the  means  of 
preventing  themselves  and  their  children  from  star- 
ving 7  And  this  has  been,  and  now  is,  actually  the 
case  with  many  such  families  in  this  same  county  of 
Sussex ! 

100.  An  ardent-minded  young  man  (who,  by-the- 
by,  will,  as  I  am  afraid,  have  been  wearied  by  this 
rambliuff  digression)  may  fear,  that  this  great  so- 
briety of  conduct  in  a  young  woman,  for  which  I  have 
been  so  strenuously  contending,  argues  a  want  of 
that  warmthj  which  he  naturally  so  much  desires ; 
and,  if  my  observation  and  experience  warranted  the 
entertaining  of  this  fear,  I  should  say,  had  I  to  live 


inj 


TO  A  LOVER. 


m 


tlic 


the- 
this 
at  so- 
have 
mt  of 
sires ; 


my  life  over  again,  give  me  the  warmthy  and  I  will 
stand  my  chance  as  to  the  rest.  But,  this  observa- 
tion and  this  experience  tell  me  the  contrary ;  they 
tf  11  me  that  levitf/  is,  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hun- 
dred, the  companion  of  a  want  of  ardent  feeling. 
Prostitutes  never  hve,  and,  for  the  far  greater  part, 
never  did.  Their  passion,  which  is  more  mei^e  ani- 
mal than  any  thing  else,  is  easily  gratified ;  they, 
like  rakes,  change  not  only  without  pain,  but  with 
pleasure ;  that  is  to  say,  pleasure  as  great  as  they  can 
enjoy.  Women  of  light  minds  have  seldom  any  ar- 
dent passion;  love  is  a  mere  name,  unless  confined 
to  one  object ;  and  young  women,  in  whom  vity  of 
conduct  is  observable,  will  not  be  thus  resi  1.  I 
do  not,  however,  recommend  a  young  mai  '<)0 

severe  in  judging,  where  the  conduct  does  lUn  go  ue- 
yond  tnere  lemty,  and  is  not  bordering  on  loose  con- 
duct ;  for  something  depends  here  upon  constitution 
and  animal  spirits,  and  something  also  upon  the  man- 
ners of  the  country.  That  levity,  which,  in  a  French 
girl,  I  should  not  have  thought  a  great  deal  of,  would 
have  frightened  me  away  from  an  English  or  an 
American  girl.  When  I  was  in  France,  just  after  I  was 
married,  there  happened  to  be  amongst  our  acquaint- 
ance a  gay,  sprightly  girl,  of  about  seventeen.  I  was 
remonstrating  with  her,  one  day,  on  the  facility  with 
which  she  seemed  to  shift  her  smiles  from  object  to 
object;  and  she,  stretching  one  arm  out  in  an  upward 
diredtion,  the  other  in  a  dov/nward  direction,  raising 
herself  upon  one  foot,  leaning  her  body  on  one  side, 
and  thus  throwing  herself  into  Si flying  attitude,  an- 
swered my  grave  lecture  by  singing,  in  a  very  sweet 
voice  (significantly  bowing  her  head  and  smiling  at 
the  same  time,)  the  following  lines  from  the  vaude- 
vilky  in  the  play  of*  Figaro : 

Bi  I'amour  a  des  ailes^ 
N'ost  ce  pas  pour  voltiger  i 

That  is,  if  love  has  wings^  is  it  not  Xojiulter  about 
with  ?  The  wit,  argument,  and  manner,  all  together, 
silenced  me.  She,  after  I  left  France,  married  a  very 
worthy  man,  has  had  a  large^  family,  and  has  beei^, 


\'\i 


...) 


i.'' 


U 


^  \  ! 


M'i,H 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


1.0  !siaKi 

^^=    m  IM  12.2 

1.1  l.-^KS 
—        M 

|||l.25|..4|..6 

« 6" 

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23  WIST  MAIN  STMIT 

WIISTII,N.Y.  14SM 

(71*)  •72-4503 


'^ 


% 


92 


COBBETT'S  ADVfCB 


[Letter 


h¥    ' 


.'  I  «    I 


m  (    I 


and  is,  a  most  excellent  wife  and  mother.  But  that 
which  does  sometimes  well  in  France,  does  not  do 
here  at  all.  Our  manners  are  more  grave :  steadi- 
ness is  the  rule,  and  levity  the  exception.  Love  may 
xoltige  in  France ;  but,  in  England,  it  cannot,  with 
safoty  to  the  lover :  and  it  is  a  truth  which,  I  believe, 
no  man  of  attentive  observation  will  deny,  that,  as,  in 
general,  English  wives  are  mwfi  warm  in  their  con- 
jugal attachments  than  those  of  France,  so,  with  re- 
gard to  individuals,  that  those  English  women  who 
are  the  most  li^ht  in  their  manners,  and  who  are  the 
least  cmsiant  m  their  attachments,  have  the  smallest 
portion  of  that  warmth^  that  indescribable  passion 
which  God  has  given  to  human  beings  as  the  great 
counterbalance  to  all  the  sorrows  and  sufferings  of 
life. 

101.  Industry.  By  industry^  I  do  not  mean  merely 
ktbouriousness,  merely  labour  or  activity  of  body, 
for  purposes  of  gain  or  of  saving ;  for  there  may  be 
industry  amongst  those  who  have  more  money  than 
they  know  well  what  to  do  with :  and  there  may  be 
lazy  ladies,  as  well  as  lazy  farmers'  and  tradesmen's 
wives.  There  is  no  state  of  life  in  which  industry 
in  the  wife  is  not  necessary  to  the  happiness  and 
prosperity  of  the  family,  at  the  head  of  the  house- 
hold affairs  of  which  sne  is  placed.  If  she  be  lazy, 
there  will  be  lazy  servants,  and,  which  is  a  great  deal 
worse,  children  habitually  lazy :  every  thing,  how- 
ever necessary  to  be  done,  will  be  put  off  to  the  last 
moment:  then  it  will  be  done  badly,  and,  in  many 
cases,  not  at  all:  the  dinner  will  be  too  late;  the 
journey  or  the  visit  will  be  tardy ;  inconveniences  of 
all  sorts  will  be  continually  arising :  there  will  al- 
ways be  a  heavy  arrear  of  things  unperformed ; 
and  this,  even  amongst  the  most  wealthy  of  all,  is  a 
great  curse;  for,  if  they  have  no  business  imposed 
upon  them  by  necessity,  they  make  business  for 
themselves;  life  would  be  unbearable  without  it: 
and  therefore  a  lazy  woman  must  always  be  a  curse, 
be  her  rank  or  station  what  it  may. 
^   102.  But,  tr/to  is  to  tall  whether  a  girl  will  make 


% 


;  "*• 


jctter 


m.i 


TO  A  LOtTEIl. 


83 


t  that 
lOt  do 
(teadi- 
emay 
;,  with 
elieve, 
,  as,  in 
ir  con- 
ath  re- 
;n  who 
are  the 
mallest 
passion 
e  great 
ings  of 

merely 
if  body, 
may  be 
ley  than 
I  may  be 
esmen's 
ndustry 
ess  and 
1  house- 
be  lazy, 
eat  deal 
g,  how- 
thelast 
many 
te;  the 
ences  of 
will  al- 
lormed ; 

all,  is  a 

imposed 

is8  for 

out  it: 

a  curse, 

111  make 


an  industrious  woman  9  How  is  the  pur-bllnd  lover 
especially,  to  be  able  to  ascertain  whether  she,  whose 
smiles  and  dimples  and  bewitching  lips  have  half 
bereft  him  of  his  senses ;  how  is  he  to  be  able  to 
judge,  from  any  thing  that  he  can  see,  whether  the 
beloved  obj ect  will  be  industriou s  or  lazy  ?  Why,  it  is 
very  difficult;  it  is  a  matter  that  reason  has  very  little  to 
do  with;  but  there  are,  nevertheless,  certain  outward 
and  visible  signs,  from  which  a  man,  not  wholly  de- 
prived of  the  use  of  his  reason,  may  form  a  pretty  ac- 
curate j  ud  graent  as  to  this  matter.  It  was  a  story  in  Phi- 
ladelphia, some  years  ago,  that  a  young  man,  who 
was  courting  one  of  three  sisters,  happened  to  be  on 
a  visit  to  her,  when  all  the  three  were  present,  and 
when  one  said  to  the  others,  "  I  wonder  where  our 
needle  is."  Upon  which  he  withdrew,  as  soon  as  was 
consistent  with  the  rules  of  politeness,  resolved  never 
to  think  more  of  a  girl  who  possessed  a  needle  only 
in  partnership,  and  who,  it  appeared,  was  not  top 
well  informed  as  to  the  place  where  even  that  share 
was  deposited. 

103.  This  was,  to  be  sure,'a  very  flagrant  instance 
of  a  want  of  industry ;  for,  if  the  third  part  of  the 
use  of  a  needle  satisfied  her  when  single,  it  was  rea- 
sonable to  anticipate  that  marriage  would  banish  that 
useful  implement  altogether.  But  such  instances  are 
seldom  suffered  to  come  in  contact  with  the  eyes  and 
ears^of  the  lover,  to  disguise  all  defects  from  whom 
is  the  great  business,  not  only  of  the  girl  herself,  but 
of  her  whole  family.  There  arf;,  however,  certain 
outward  signs,  which,  if  attended  to  with  care,  will 
serve  as  pretty  sure  guides.  And,  first,  if  you  find 
the  tovgue  lazy,  you  may  be  nearly  certain  that  the 
hands  and  feet  are  the  same.  By  laziness  of  the 
tongue  I  do  not  mean  silence  ;  I  do  not  mean  an  ab- 
sence of  talk,  for  that  is,  in  most  cases,  very  good ; 
but,l  mean,  a  slaio  and  soft  utterance;  a  sort  of 
sighing'  aiit  of  the  words  instead  of  speaking  them ; 
a  sort  of  letting  the  sounds  fall  out,  as  if  the  party 
were  sick  at  stomach.  The  pronunciation  of  an  in- 
dustrious person  is  generally  gtiickj  distinct^  and  the 


*.' 


i  I" 


I    ' 


w  '■■ 


}  f     <■ 


•■F'-,.," 


m 


'i! 


mi'-k 


•    )'■ 


','1: 


P,    ■:•■''    ! 


I ;  I 


'«« 


ill 


94 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


voice,  if  not  strong,.^rwi  at  the  least.  Not  mascu- 
line ;  as  feminine  as  possible ;  not  a  croak  nor  a 
hawly  but  a  quick,  distinct,  and  sound  voice.  No- 
thing is  much  more  disgusting  than  what  the  sensi- 
ble country  people  call  a  maw-mouthed  viroman.  A 
maw-mouthed  man  is  bad  enough :  he  is  sure  to  be 
a  lazy  fellow :  but,  a  woman  of  this  description,  in 
addition  to  her  laziness,  soon  becomes  the  most  dis- 
gusting of  mates.  In  this  whole  world  nothing  is 
much  more  hateful  than  a  female's  under  jaw,  lazily 
moving  up  and  down,  and  letting  out  a  long  string 
of  half-articulate  sounds.  It  is  impossible  for  any 
man,  who  has  any  spirit  in  him,  to  love  such  a  wo- 
man for  any  length  of  time. 

104.  Look  a  little,  also,  at  the  labours  of  the  teeth^ 
for  these  correspond  with  those  of  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  body,  and  with  the  operations  of  the 
mind.  "  Quick  at  meal%  quick  at  work^^'^  is  a  saying 
as  old  as  the  hills,  in  this,  the  most  industrious  na- 
tion upon  earth  ;  and  never  was  there  a  truer  saying. 
But  fashion  comes  in  here,  and  decides  that  you 
shall  not  be  quick  at  meals ;  that  you  shall  sit  and 
be  carrying  on  the  affair  of  eating  for  an  hour,  or 
more.  Good  God !  what  have  I  not  suffered  on  this 
account !  However,  though  she  must  sit  as  long  as 
the  rest,  and  though  she  must  join  in  the  'perform- 
ance (for  it  is  a  real  performance)  unto  the  end  of 
the  last  scene,  she  cannot  make  her  teeth  abandon 
their  character.  She  may,  and  must,  suffer  the  slice 
to  linger  on  the  plate,  and  must  make  the  supply 
slow,  in  ordr .  Ill  up  the  time ;  but  when  she  does 
bite,  she  canhv  .  ell  disguise  what  nature  has  taught 
her  to  do  •,  and  you  may  be  assured,  that  if  her  jaws 
move  in  slow  time,  and  if  she  rather  squeeze  than 
bite  the  food ;  if  she  so  deal  with  it  as  to  leave  you 
in  doubt  as  to  whether  she  mean  finally  to  admit  or 
reject  it  j  if  she  deal  with  it  thus,  set  her  down  as 
beins,  in  her  very  nature,  incorrigibly  lazy.  Never 
mind  the  pieces  of  needle-work,  the  tambouring,  the 
maps  of  the  world  made  by  her  needle.  Get  to  see 
her  at  work  upon  a  mutton-chop,  or  a  bit  of  bread 


age. 

106. 
andfho 
of  no  in 
is,  even 
it  is,  I  i 
alive  toi 
beholds 
directly 
and  thei 
morsels 
endure 
ing  disg 
And,  as 
living  ar 
labour  o 


.etter 

ascu- 
lor  a 

No- 
sensi- 
1.    A 
to  be 
on,  in 
St  dis- 
ing  is 
lazily 
string 
)r  any 

a  wo- 

e  teeth, 
r  mem- 
of  the 
saying 
ous  na- 
saying. 
mt  you 
sit  and 
lour,  or 
on  this 
long  as 
erfarm- 
end  of 
bandon 
he  slice 

supply 
jhedoes 
J  taught 
ler  jaws 
ze  than 
ave  you 
idmit  or 
lown  as 
Never 


mg, 


the 


^X  to  see 
)f  bread 


III.] 


TO  A  LOVER. 


95 


and  cheese ;  and,  if  she  deal  quickly  with  these,  you 
have  a  pretty  good  security  for  that  activity,  that 
stirrvnff  industry  without  which  a  wife  is  a  burden 
insteadr of  a  help.  And,  as  to  love^  it  cannot  live  for 
more  than  a  month  or  two  (in  the  breast  of  a  man 
of  spirit^  towards  a  lazy  woman. 

105.  Another  mark  of  industry  is,  a  quick  step, 
and  a  somewhat  Tieavy  treads  showing  that  the  foot 
comes  down  with  a  liearty  good  wUl ;  and  if  the 
body  lean  a  little  forward,  and  the  eyes  keep  steadily 
in  the  same  direction,  while  the  feet  are  going,  so 
much  the  better,  for  these  discover  earnestness  to 
arrive  at  the  intended  point.  I  do  not  like,  and  I 
never  liked,  your  sauntering,  soft-stepping  girls, 
who  move  as  if  they  were  perfectly  indifferent  as  to 
the  result ;  and,  as  to  the  love  part  of  the  story,  who- 
ever expects  ardent  and  lasting  affection  from  one  of 
these  sauntering  girls,  will,  when  too  late,  find  his 
mistake :  the  character  runs  the  same  all  the  way 
through ;  and  no  man  ever  yet  saw  a  sauntering 
girl,  who  did  not,  when  married,  make  a  mawkish 
wife,  and  a  cold-hearted  mother ;  cared  very  little 
for  either  by  husband  or  children ;  and,  of  course, 
having  ro  store  of  those  blessings  which  are  the 
natural  resources  to  apply  to  in  sickness  and  in  old 
age. 

106.  Early-rising  is  another  mark  of  industry ; 
and  though,  in  the  higher  stations  of  life,  it  may  be 
of  no  importance  in  a  mere  pecuniary  point  of  view,  it 
is,  even  there,  of  importance  in  other  respects  ;  for 
it  is,  I  should  imagine,  pretty  difficult  to  keep  love 
alive  towards  a  woman  who  never  sees  the  dew,  never 
beholds  the  rising  sun,  and  who  constantly  comes 
directly  from  a  reeking  bed  to  the  breakfast  table, 
and  there  chews  about,  without  appetite,  the  choicest 
morsels  of  human  food.  A  man  might,  perhaps, 
endure  this  for  a  month  or  two,  without  be- 
ing disgusted  ;  but  that  is  ample  allowance  of  time. 
And,  as  to  people  in  the  middle  rank  of  life,  where  a 
living  and  a  provision  for  children  is  to  be  sought  by 
labour  of  some  sort  or  other,  late  rising  in  the  wifo 


V'   TIT 

if      ' 

,-5  • 

■  i ' 

■A 


:-4. 

1 

; 

i 

■  ',    • 

k- 

,1 

d 


r:4      I 


m 


96 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


r'''vi 


ml 


mm 


IS  certain  ruin  ;  and,  never  was  there  yet  an  early- 
rising  wife,  who  had  been  a  late-rising  girl.  If 
brought  up  to  late  rising,  she  will  like  it ;  it  will  be 
her  habit ;  she  will,  when  married,  never  want  ex- 
cuses for  indulging  in  the  habit ;  at  first  she  will  be 
indulged  without  bounds ;  to  make  a  change  after- 
wards will  be  difficult ;  it  will  be  deemed  a 
wran.fr  done  to  her ;  she  will  ascribe  it  to  diminished 
affection  ;  a  quarrel  must  ensue,  or,  the  husband 
must  submit  to  be  ruined,  or,  at  the  very  least,  to  see 
half  the  fruit  of  his  labour  snored  and  lounged 
away.  And,  is  this  being  rigid!  Is  it  being  harsh  ; 
is  it  being  hard  upon  women  ?  Is  it  the  offspring 
of  the  frigid  severity  of  age  ?  It  is  none  of  these : 
it  arises  from  an  ardent  desire  to  promote  the  happi- 
ness, and  to  add  to  the  natural,  legitimate,  and  salu- 
tary influence,  of  the  female  sex.  The  tendency  of 
this  advice  is  to  promote  the  preservation  of  their 
health ;  to  prolong  the  duration  of  their  beauty ;  to 
cause  them  to  be  loved  to  the  last  day  of  their  lives ; 
and  to  give  them,  during  the  whole  of  those  livrs, 
weight  and  consequence,  of  which  laziness  would 
render  them  wholly  unworthy. 

107.  Frugality.  This  means  the  contrary  of  <?^- 
travagance.  It  does  not  mean  stinginess  ;  it  does 
not  mean  a  pinching  of  the  belly,  nor  a  stripping  of 
the  back  ;  but  it  means  an  abstaining  from  all  unne- 
cessary expenditure,  and  all  tmnecessary  use,  of 
goods  of  any  and  of  every  sort ;  and  a  quality  of 
great  importance  it  is  whether  the  rank  m  life  be 
high  or  low.  Some  people  are,  indeed,  so  rich,  they 
have  such  an  overabundance  of  money  and  goods, 
that  how  to  get  rid  of  them  would,  to  a  looker-on, 
seem  to  be  their  only  difficulty.  But  while  the  in- 
convenience of  even  these  immense  masses  is  not 
too  great  to  be  overcome  by  a  really  extravagant 
woman  who  jumps  with  joy  at  a  basket  of  straw- 
berries at  a  guinea  an  ounce,  and  who  would  not 
give  a  straw  for  green  peas  later  in  the  year  than 
January ;  while  such  a  dame  would  lighten  the  bags 
of  a  loan-monger,  or  shorten  the  rent-roll  of  half-a- 


:^^ 


.eiler 

tarly- 
1.  If 
rill  be 
it  ex- 

jiW  be 
after- 
led   a 
fiished 
isband 
to  see 
mnged 
karsh  ; 
fspring 
these : 
happi- 
id  salu- 
ency  of 
of  their 
uty ;  to 
ir  lives; 
e  lives, 
would 


iiLi 


TO  A  LOVER. 


97 


dozen  peerages  amalgamat6d  into  ont  possession, 
she  would,  with  a  very  little  study  and  application 
of  her  talent,  send  a  nobleman  of  ordinary  estate  to 
the  poor-house  or  the  pension  list,  which  last  may 
be  justly  regarded  as  the  poor-book  of  the  aristocra- 
cy. How  many  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  of  fine 
estates,  have  been  ruined  and  degraded  by  the  ex- 
travagance of  their  wives!  More  frequently  by 
their  own  extravagance,  perhaps;  but,  in  nume- 
rous instances,  by  that  of  those  whose  duty  it  is  to 
assist  in  upholding  their  stations  by  husbanding 
their  fortunes. 

108.  If  this  be  the  case  amongst  the  opulent,  who 
have  estates  to  draw  upon,  what  must  be  the  conse- 
quences of  a  want  of  frugality  in  the  middle  and 
lower  ranks  of  life  ?  Here  it  must  be  fatal,  and  es- 
pecially amongst  that  description  of  persons  whose 
wives  have,  in  many  cases,  the  receiving  as  well  as 
the  expending  of  money.  In  such  a  case,  there 
wants  nothing  but  extravagance  in  the  wife  to  make 
ruin  as  sure  as  the  arrival  of  old  age.  To  obtain  se- 
curity against  this  is  very  difficult ;  yet,  if  •the  lover 
be  not  quite  blind,  he  may  easily  discover  a  propen- 
sity towards  extravagance.  The  object  of  his  ad- 
dresses will,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  not  be  the  mana- 
ger of  a  house ;  but  she  must  have  her  dress,  and 
other  little  matters  under  her  control.  If  she  be 
cosily  in  these;  if,  in  these,  she  step  above  her 
rank,  or  even  to  the  top  of  it ;  if  she  purchase  all 
she  is  able  to  purchase,  and  prefer  the  showy  to  the 
useful,  the  gay  and  the  fragile  to  the  less  sightly  and 
more  durable,  he  may  be  sure  that  the  disposition 
will  cling  to  her  through  life.  If  he  perceive  in  her 
a  taste  for  costly  food,  costly  furniture,  costly 
amusements ;  if  he  find  her  love  of  gratification  to 
be  bounded  only  by  her  want  of  means ;  if  he  find 
her  full  of  admiration  of  the  trappings  of  the  rich, 
and  of  desire  to  be  able  to  imitate  them,  he  may  be 
pretty  sure  that  she  will  not  spare  his  purse,  when 
once  she  gets  her  band  into  it ;  and,  therefore,  if  he 


i         t 


■       1 

t 

! 

l'  -r 

1 

1  ■  • 

.          -l' 

:      A 

i 

'  '**' 

■?'^-!      :•;! 


•';-'f 


I.   .  I,  ,       "' 
1     il, 


'!:-1-t, 


ssm 


98 


COBBETr's  ADVICE 


LLetter 


can  bid  adieu  to  her  charms,  the  sooner  he  does  it 
the  better. 

109.  The  outward  and  visible  and  vulgar  signs  of 
extravagance  are  ring's,  broachesj  braceletSy  buckles, 
necklaces,  diamonds,  (real  or  mock,)  and,  in  short, 
all  the  hard-ware  which  women  put  upon  their  per- 
sons. These  things  may  be  proper  enough  in  polar 
ces,  or  in  scenes  resembling  palaces ;  but,  when  they 
meke  their  appearance  amongst  people  in  the  middle 
rank  of  life,  where,  after  all,  they  only  serve  to 
show  that  poverty  in  the  parties  which  they  wish  to 
disguise ;  when  the  nasty,  mean,  tawdry  things 
make  their  appearance  in  this  rank  of  life,  they  are 
the  sure  indications  of  a  disposition  that  will  always 
be  straining-  at  what  it  can  neve  attain.  To  marry 
a  girl  of  this  disposition  is  really  self-destruction. 
You  never  can  have  either  property  or  peace.  Earn 
her  a  horse  to  ride,  she  will  want  a  gig :  earn  the 
gig,  she  will  want  a  chariot :  get  her  that,  she  will 
long  for  a  coach  and  four :  and,  from  stage  to  stage, 
she  will  torment  you  to  the  end  of  her  or  your  days ; 
for,  still  there  will  be  somebody  with  a  finer  equip- 
age than*  you  can  give  her ;  and,  as  long  as  this  is 
the  case,  you  will  never  have  rest.  Reason  would 
tell  her,  that  she  could  never  be  at  the  top  ;  that  she 
must  stop  at  some  point  short  of  that  j  and  that, 
therefore,  all  expenses  in  the  rivalship  are  so  much 
thrown  away.  But,  reason  and  broaches  and  brace- 
lets do  not  go  in  company :  the  girl  who  has  not  the 
sense  to  perceive  that  her  person  is  disfigured,  and 
not  beautified,  by  parcels  of  brass  and  tin  (for  they 
are  generally  little  better)  and  other  hardware,  stuck 
about  her  body ;  the  girl  that  is  so  foolish  as  not  to 
perceive,  that,  when  silks  and  cottons  and  cambrics, 
m  their  neatest  form,  have  done  their  best,  nothing 
more  is  to  be  done ;  the  girl  that  cannot  perceive 
this  is  too  great  a  fool  to  be  trusted  with  the  purse  of 
any  man. 

110.  Cleanliness.  This  is  a  capital  ingredient ; 
for  there  never  yet  was,  and  there  never  will  be,  love 
of  long  duration,  sincere  and  ardent  love,  in  any 


'i 


son 


jetter 
oes  it 

;n8  of 

icklesy 

short, 

ir  per- 

i  palor 

n  they 

[niddle 

rve  to 

vish  to 

things 

ley  are 

always 
marry 

•uction. 
Gam 

am  the 

she  will 

,0  stage, 

irdays; 

r  equip- 

,s  this  is 
would 

that  she 
d  that, 
0  much 
id  brace- 
not  the 
ed,  and 
for  they 
■e,  stuck 
iS  not  to 
lambrics, 
nothing 
Iperceive 
purse  of 


in.] 


TO  A  LOVER. 


99 


man,  towards  a  ^^JUthy  matey  I  mean  any  man  in 
England,  or  in  those  parts  of  America  where  the 
people  have  descended  from  the  English,  I  do  not 
say,  that  there  are  not  men  enough,  even  in  England, 
to  live  peaceably  and  even  contentedly,  with  dirty, 
sluttish  women ;  for,  there  are  some  who  seem  to 
like  the  tilth  well  enough.  But  what  I  contend  for 
is  this :  that  there  never  can  exist,  for  any  length  of 
time,  ardent  affection,  in  any  man  towards  a  woman 
who  is  filthy  either  in  her  person,  or  in  her  house 
affairs.  Men  may  be  careless  as  to  their  own  per- 
son ;  they  may,  from  the  nature  of  their  business, 
or  from  their  want  of  time  to  adhere  to  neatness  in 
dress,  be  slovenly  in  their  own  dress  and  habits ;  but, 
they  do  not  relish  this  in  their  wives,  who  must  still 
have  charms ;  and  charms  and  filth  do  not  go  to- 
gether. 

HI.  It  is  not  dress  that  the  husband  wants  to  be 
perpetual :  it  is  not  Jinery;  but  cleanliness  in  every 
thing.  The  French  women  dress  enough,  especially 
when  they  saUy  forth.  My  excellent  neighbour, 
Mr.  John  Tredwell,  of  Long  Island,  used  to  say, 
that  the  French  were  "  pigs  in  the  parlour,  and  pea- 
cocks on  the  promenade  j"  an  alliteration  which 
"  Canninq's  self"  might  have  envied  I  This  occa- 
sionai  cleanliness  is  not  the  thing  that  an  English  or 
an  American  husband  wants :  he  wants  it  always ; 
indoors  as  well  as  out  j  by  night  ap  well  as  by  day ; 
on  the  floor  as  well  as  on  the  tabic ;  and,  however 
he  may  grumble  about  the  "/t<»s"  and  the  "ea?pew«e" 
of  it,  he  would  grumble  more  if  he  had  it  not.  I 
once  saw  a  picture  representing  the  amusements  of 
Portuguese  Lovers;  that  is  to  say,  three  or  four 
young  men,  dressed  in  gold  or  silver  laced  clothes, 
each  having  a  young  girl,  dressed  like  a  princess, 
and  affectionately  engaged  in  hunting  down  and 
kming  the  vermin  in  his  head  I  This  was,  perhaps, 
an  exaggeration;  but  that  it  should  have  had  the 
shadow  of  foundation,  was  enough  to  fill  me  with 
contempt  for  the  whole  nation. 

1 12.  The  signs  of  cleanliness  are,  in  the  first  place, 


•'■^'W 


• 


» 

i 


'  'i 

•■■•,-  w 


■f-4.  ' 


»K' 


I 


1 1 


>  >' 


uii  i: 


100 


OOBBETl's  AOTTCB 


[Letter 


a  clean  aktn.  An  English  girl  will  hardly  let  her 
lover  see  the  stale  dirt  between  her  fingers,  as  I  have 
many  times  seen  it  between  those  of  French  women, 
and  even  ladies,  of  all  ages.  An  English  girl  will 
have  her  face  clean,  to  be  sure,  if  there  be  soap  and 
water  within  her  reach ;  but,  get  a  glance,  just  a 
glance,  at  her  pdl,  if  you  have  any  doubt  upon  the 
subject ;  and,  if  you  find  there,  or  behind  the  earsy 
what  the  Yorkshire  people  call  grime,  the  sooner 
you  cease  your  visits  the  better.  I  hope,  now,  that 
no  young  women  will  be  offended  at  this,  and  think 
me  too  severe  on  her  sex.  I  am  only  saying,  I  am 
only  telling  the  women,  that  which  cdl  men  think  ,- 
and,  it  is  a  decided  advantage  to  them  to  be  fully  in- 
formed of  our  thoughts  on  the  subject.  If  any  one, 
who  shall  read  this,  find,  upon  self-examination,  that 
'She  is  defective  in  this  respect,  there  is  plenty  of 
time  for  correcting  the  defect. 

113.  In  the  dress  you  can,  amongst  rich  people, 
find  little  whereon  to  form  a  judgment  as  to  cleanli- 
ness, because  they  have  not  only  the  dress  prepared 
for  them,  but  put  upon  them  into  the  bargain.  But, 
in  the  middle  rank  of  life,  the  dress  is  a  good  crite- 
rion in  two  respects:  first,  as  to  its  colour;  for,  if 
the  white  be  a  sort  of  yellow,  cleanly  hands  would 
have  been  at  work  to  prevent  that.  A  white-yeUoie 
cravat,  or  shirt,  on  a  man,  speaks,  at  once,  the  cha 
racter  of  his  wife;  and,  be  you  assured,  that  she  wil 
not  take  with  your  dress  pains  which  she  has  nevei 
taken  with  her  own.  Then,  the  manner  of  putting 
on  the  dress  is  no  bad  foundation  for  judging.  If  it 
be  careless,  slovenly,  if  it  do  not  fit  properly.  No 
matter  for  its  mean  quality :  mean  as  it  may  be,  it 
may  be  neatly  and  trimly  put  on ;  and,  if  it  be  not, 
take  care  of  yourself;  for,  as  you  will  soon  find  to 
your  cost,  a  sloven  in  one  thing  is  a  sloven  in  all 
things.  The  country-people  judge  greatly  from  the 
state  of  the  covering  of  the  ancles  and,  if  that  be 
not  clean  and  tight,  they  conclude,  that  all  out  of 
sight  is  not  what  it  ought  to  be.  Look  at  the  shoes! 
If  they  be  trodden  on  one  side,  loose  on  the  foot,  or 


tetter 

i  her 
have 
unen. 
rl  will 
p  and 
just  a 
)ii  the 
I  ears^ 
sooner 
V,  that 
L  think 
r,  I  am 
think } 
lUy  in- 
ly  one, 
m,  that 
enty  o( 


in.] 


TO  A  LOVER. 


101 


run  down  at  the  heel,  it  is  a  very  bad  sign ;  and,  as 
to  alip-^hody  though  at  coming  down  in  the  morning 
and  even  before  daylight,  make  up  your  mind  to  a 
rope,  rather  than  to  live  with  a  slip-shod  wife. 

114.  Oh !  how  much  do  women  lose  by  inatten- 
tion to  these  matters !  Men,  in  general,  say  nothing 
about  it  to  their  wives ;  but  they  thiiik  about  it :  they 
envy  their  luckier  neighbours:  and  in  numerous 
cases,  consequences  the  most  serious  arise  from  this 
apparently  trifling  cause.  Beauty  is  valuable ;  it  is 
one  of  the  ties,  and  a  strong  tie  too ;  that,  however, 
cannot  last  to  old  age;  but  the  charm  of  cleanliness 
never  ends  but  with  life  itself.  I  dismiss  this  part 
of  my  subject  with  a  quotation  from  my  "  Year's 
REsroENCB  IN  America."  containing  words  which  I 
venture  to  recommend  to  every  young  woman  to 
engrave  on  her  heart ;  "  The  sweetest  flowers,  when 
they  become  putrid,  stink  the  most ;  and  a  nasty 
womau  is  the  nastiest  thing  in  nature." 

115.  Knowledge  op  domestic  Affairs.  Without 
more  or  less  of  this  knowledge,  a  lady,  even  the 
wife  of  a  peer,  is  but  a  poorish  thing.  It  was  the 
fashion,  in  former  times,  for  ladies  to  understand  a 
great  deal  about  these  affairs,  and  it  would  be  very 
hard  to  make  me  believe  that  this  did  not  tend  to 
promote  the  interests  and  honour  of  their  husbands. 
The  aflairs  of  a  great  family  never  can  be  well  ma^ 
naged,  if  left  wholly  to  hirelings ;  and  there  are  ma- 
ny parts  of  these  affairs  in  which  it  would  be  un- 
seemly for  their  husbands  to  meddle.  Surely,  no 
lady  can  be  too  high  in  rank  to  make  it  proper  for 
her  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  characters  and 
general  demeanour  of  all  the  ^mafe  servants.  To 
receive  and  give  them  characters  is  too  much  to  be 
left  to  a  servant,  however  good,  and  of  service  how- 
ever long.  Much  of  the  ease  and  happiness  of  the 
great  and  rich  must  depend  on  the  character  of  those 
by  whom  they  are  served :  they  live  under  the  same 
roof  with  them ;  they  are  frequently  the  children  of 
their  tenants,  or  poorer  neighbours ;  the  conduct  of 
their  whole  lives  must  be  influenced  by  the  examples 

9* 


;v  I'll 


e 


"-J 


1' 


i 


rl-  ■.'-  I  !i 


%  'PI 


^■'fir.' 


li  :i 


i-l    :T 


»^ik 


■     I  ; ' 

I,  ' 

^     I 


iii 


•■* ;    1, 


m 

mi 


102 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


LLetter 


and  precepta  which  they  here  imbibe;  and  when 
ladies  consider  how  much  more  weight  there  must 
be  in  one  word  from  them  than  in  ten  thousand 
words  from  a  person  who,  call  her  what  you  like,  is 
still  a  fallow-servant,  it  does  apponr  strange  that  they 
should  forego  the  performance  of  this  at  once  im- 
portSht  and  pleasing  part  of  their  duty.  It  was  from 
the  mansions  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  and  not 
from  boarding  schools,  tliat  farmers  and  tradesmen 
formerly  took  their  wives ;  and  though  these  days 
are  gone,  with  little  chance  of  returning,  there  is 
still  something  left  for  ladies  to  do  in  checking  that 
torrent  of  immorality  which  is  now  crowding  the 
streets  with  prostitutes  and  cramming  the  jails  with 
thieves. 

116.  I  am,  however,  addressing  myself,  in  this 
work,  to  persons  in  the  middle  rank  of  life ;  and 
here  a  knowUdge  of  domestic  affairs  is  so  necessary 
in  every  wife,  that  the  lover  ought  to  have  it  con- 
tinually in  his  eye.  Not  only  a  knowledge  of  these 
affairs ;  not  only  to  know  how  things  ought  he  done^ 
but  how  to  do  tlierti ;  not  only  to  know  what  ingre- 
dients ought  to  be  put  into  a  pie  or  a  pudding,  but 
to  be  able  to  make  the  pie  or  the  pudding.  Young 
people,  when  l^ey  come  together,  ought  not,  unless 
they  have  fortunes,  or  are  in  a  great  way  of  busi- 
ness, to  think  about  servants  !  Servants  for  what ! 
To  help  them  to  eat  and  drink  and  sleep  ?  When 
children  come,  there  must  be  some  help  in  a  farmer's 
or  tradesman's  house,  but  until  then,  what  call  for  a 
servant  in  a  house,  the  master  of  which  has  to  earn 
every  mouthful  that  is  consumed? 

117.  I  shall,  when  I  come  to  address  myself  to  the 
husband,  have  much  more  to  say  upon  this  subject 
of  keeping  servants;  but,  what  the  lover,  if  he  be 
not  quite  blind,  has  to  look  to,  is,  that  his  intended 
wife  know  hxm  to  do  the  work  of  a  house,  unless  he 
have  fortune  sufficient  to  keep  her  like  a  lady.  "  Eat- 
ing and  drinking,"  as  I  observe  in  Cottage  Economy, 
came  three  times  every  day  ;  they  must  come ;  and, 
however  little  we  may,  in  the  days  of  our  health 


[iCtter 

when 
must 
usand 
ike,  is 
t  they 
ce  im- 
s  from 
nd  not 
esmen 
e  days 
[lere  is 
ig  that 
ng  the 
Is  with 

in  this 
fe;  and 
cessary 
it  con- 
■)i  these 
he  done^ 
,t  ingre- 
ing,  but 
Young 
;,  unless 
of  busi- 
r  what ! 

When 
armer's 
all  for  a 

to  earn 

If  to  the 
subject 
f  he  be 
ntended 
nless  he 
«  Eat- 

CONOMY, 

16 ;  and, 
health 


III.] 


TO  4  LOTER. 


103 


and  vigour,  care  about  choice  food  and  about  cook- 
ery, we  very  soon  get  tired  of  heavy  or  burnt  bread 
and  of  spoiled  joints  of  meat :  we  bear  them  for  a 
time,  or  for  two,  perhaps ;  but,  about  the  third  time, 
we  lament  inwardly  ;  about  the  fifth  time,  it  must 
be  an  extraordinary  honey-moon  that  will  keep  us 
from  complaining :  if  the  like  continue  for  a  imnth 
or  two,  we  begin  to  repent ;  and  then  adieu  to  all  our 
anticipated  delights.  We  discover,  when  it  is  too 
late,  that  we  have  not  got  a  help-mate,  but  a  burden ; 
and,  the  fire  of  love  being  damped,  the  unfortunate- 
ly educated  creature,  whose  parents  are  more  to 
blame  than  she  is,  is,  unless  she  resolve  to  learn  her 
duty,  doomed  to  lead  a  life  very  nearly  approaching 
to  that  of  misery  ;  for,  however  considerate  the  hus- 
band, he  never  can  esteem  her  as  he  would  have 
done,  had  she  been  skilled  and  able  in  domestic  af- 
fairs. 

118.  The  mere  manual  performance  of  domestic 
labours  is  not,  indeed,  absolutely  necessary  in  the 
female  head  of  the  family  of  professional  men,  such 
as  lawyers,  doctors,  and  parsons ;  but,  even  here,  and 
also  in  the  case  of  great  merchants  and  of  gentle- 
men living  on  their  fortunes,  surely  the  head  of  the 
household  ought  to  be  able  to  give  directions  as  to  the . 
purchasing  of  meal,  salting  meat,  making  bread, 
making  preserves  of  all  sorts,  and  ought  to  see  the 
things  done,  or  that  they  be  done.  She  ought  to 
take  care  that  food  be  well  cooked,  drink  properly 
prepared  and  kept ;  that  there  be  always  a  sufficient 
supply ;  that  there  be  good  living  without  waste ; 
and  that  in  her  department,  nothing  shall  be  seen  in- 
consistent with  the  rank,  station,  and  character  of 
her  husband,  who,  if  he  have  a  skilful  and  industri- 
ous wife,  will,  unless  he  be  of  a  singularly  foolish 
turn,  gladly  leave  all  these  things  to  her  absolute  do- 
minion, controlled  onlyby  the  extent  of  the  whole  ex- 
penditure, of  which  he  must  be  the  best,  and,  indeed, 
the  sole,  judge. 

119,  But,  in  a  farmer's  or  a  tradesman's  family, 
the  Tiummt  performance  \%  absolutely  necessary, 


.•  1 

r 

1 1 

M 

■•I 

"1 

■::f 


\a 


-  '5 

ad' 

I 


■ 


■•■  *. 


n 


P! 


104 


cobbett's  advice 


(Letter 


I 


f  i.  .     '■  ' 
t  ,  . 


yj'n^' iiii 


;  !'  1  mf.M 
4-'^'i     !    illl' 

'■■'■■11     r 


i  ,      I! 

';■■'!' 


Jv;   ! 


' II 


iv      '   J 


ll^^'^ 


■•* 


li> 


».  :>i.i»'lH> 


i&i 


ij 


whether  there  be  servants  or  not.  No  one  knows 
how  to  teach  another  so  well  as  one  who  has  done, 
and  can  do,  the  thing  himself.  It  was  said  of  a  fa- 
mous French  commander,  that,  in  attacking  an  ene- 
my, he  did  not  say  to  his  men  "^o  on,"  but  "  come 
on ;"  and,  whoever  have  well  observed  the  move- 
ments of  servants,  must  know  what  a  prodigious  dif- 
ference there  is  in  the  effect  of  the  words,  g-o  and 
come.  A  very  good  rule  would  be,  to  have  nothing 
to  eat,  in  a  farmer's  or  tradesman's  house,  that  the 
mistresi^  did  not  know  how  to  prepare  and  to  cook  j 
no  pudding,  tart,  pie  or  cake,  that  she  did  know  how 
to  make.  Never  fear  the  toil  to  her :  exercise  is  good 
for  health  j  and  without  health  there  is  no  beauty ; 
a  sick  beauty  may  excite  pity ;  but  pity  is  a  short- 
lived passion.  Besides,  what  is  the  labour  in  such  a 
case  ?  And  how  many  thousands  of  ladies,  who  loll 
away  the  day,  would  give  half  their  fortunes  for  that 
sound  sleep  which  the  stirring  house-wife  seldom 
fails  to  enjoy. 

IW,  Yet,  if  a  young  farmer  or  tradesman  many 
a  girl,  who  has  been  brought  up  to  play  music,  to 
what  is  called  draw,  to  sin^,  to  waste  paper,  pen  and 
ink,  in  writing  long  and  half  romantic  letterc,  and 
to  see  shows,  and  plays,  and  read  novels ;  if  a  young 
man  do  marry  such  an  unfortunate  young  feature, 
let  him  bear  the  consequences  with  temper;  let  him 
he  just;  and  justice  will  teach  him  to  treat  her  with 
great  indulgence ;  to  endeavour  to  cause  her  to  learn 
her  business  as  a  wife ;  to  be  patient  with  her ;  to  re- 
flect that  he  has  taken  her,  being  apprised  of  her  in- 
ability ;  to  bear  in  mind,  that  he  was,  or  seemed  to 
be,  pleased  with  her  showy  and  useless  acquirements ; 
and  that,  when  the  gratification  of  his  passion  has 
been  accomplished,  he  is  unjust  and  cruel  and  un- 
manly, if  he  turn  round  upon  her,  and  accuse  her  of 
a  want  of  that  knowledge,  which  he  well  knew  that 
she  did  not  possess. 

121.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  know,  nor  can  I  form 
an  idea  of,  a  more  unfortunate  being  than  a  girl  with 
a  mere  boarding-schopl  education,  and  jyithout  a  for- 


iCtter 

nows 

done, 

a  fa- 

ft  ene- 


come 


move- 
lus  dif- 
ro  and 
othing 
lat  the 
cook ; 
w  how 
is  good 
)eauty ; 
I  short- 
L  such  a 
vho  loll 
for  that 
seldom 

many 
msic,  to 
pen  and 
5rc,  and 
, young 
reature, 
let  him 
ler  with 
I  to  learn 
;  to  re- 
herin- 
jmed  to 
lements; 
lion  has 
landun- 
36  her  of 
lew  that 

Iform 
rirl  with 
futafor- 


iin 


TO  A   LOVER. 


106 


tune  to  enable  her  to  keep  a  servant,  when  married. 
Ofwhatwse  are  her  accomplishments?    Of  what 
use  her  music,  her  drawing,  and  her  romantic  epis- 
tles 1    If  she  be  good  in  her  nature,  the  iirst  little 
faint  cry  of  her  first  baby  drives  all  the  tunes  and  all 
the  landscapes  and  all  the  Clarissa  Harlowes  out  of 
her  head  for  ever.    I  once  saw  a  very  striking  in- 
stance of  this  sort.    It  was  a  climb-over-the-wall 
match,  and  I  gave  the  bride  away,  at  St.  Margaret's 
Church,  Westminster,  the  pair  being  as  handsome 
a  pair  as  ever  I  saw  in  my  life.    Beauty,  however, 
though  in  double  quantity,  would  not  pay  the  baker 
and  butcher ;  and,  after  an  absence  of  little  better 
than  a  year,  I  found  the  husband  in  prison  for  debt ; 
but  I  there  found  also  his  wife,  with  her  baby;  and 
she,  who  had  never,  before  her  marriage,  known  what 
it  was  to  get  water  to  wash  her  own  hands,  and 
whose  talk  was  all  about  music,  and  the  like,  was 
now  the  cheerful  sustainer  of  her  husband,  and  the 
most  affectionate  of  mothers.    All  the  music  and  all 
the  drawings  and  all  the  plays  and  romances,  were 
gone  to  the  winds !    The  husband  and  baby  had 
fairly  supplanted  them ;  and  even  this  prison  scone 
was  a  blessing,  as  it  gave  her,  at  this  early  stage,  an 
opportunity  of  proving  her  devotion  to  her  husband, 
who,  though  I  have  not  seen  him  for  about  fifteen 
years,  he  being  in  a  part  of  America  which  I  could 
not  reach  when  last  there,  has,  I  am  sure,  amply  re- 
paid her  for  that  devotion.   They  have  now  a  nume- 
rous family  (not  less  than  twelve  children,  I  believe,) 
and  she  ip .  I  am  told,  a  most  excellent  and  able  mis- 
tress of  a  respectable  house. 

122.  But,  this  is  a  rare  instance :  the  husband,  like 
his  countrymen  in  general,  was  at  once  brave,  hu- 
mane, gentle,  and  considerate,  and  the  love  was  so 
sincere  and  ardent,  on  both  sides,  that  it  made  losses 
and  suflerings  appear  as  nothing.  When  I,  in  a  sort 
of  half-whisper,  asked  Mrs.  Dickens  where  her  piaTio 
was,  she  smiled,  and  turned  her  face  towards  her  ba- 
by, that  was  sitting  on  her  knee ;  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  This  little  fellow  has  beaten  the  piano  j"  and,  if 


r. ' 

1     !».. 


;| 


^    ■ 


1  i 


,-) 


If-,-  - 


^?i 

f    . 

-.  .  . 
\   ■ 

til' 


wmm\ 


106 


COBBETTS  ADVICE 


I  Letter 


I  'ii 


fj 


III 


W;.,;''  illl!!l:i 


^S    "'I         ':„ 


I 


!  m 


m 


■I'M  I        1 


iMi 


in 


what  1  am  now  writing  should  ever  have  the  honour 
to  be  read  by  her,  let  it  be  the  bearer  of  a  renewed 
expression  of  my  admiration  of  her  conduct,  and  of 
that  regard  for  her  kind  and  sensible  husband,  which 
time  and  distance  have  not  in  the  least  diminished, 
and  which  will  be  an  inmate  of  my  heart  until  it 
shall  cease  to  beat. 

123.  The  like  of  this  is,  however,  not  to  be  expect- 
ed :  no  man  ought  to  think  that  he  has  even  a  chance 
of  it:  besides,  the  husband  was,  in  this  case,  a  man 
of  learning  and  of  great  natural  ability :  he  has  not 
had  to  get  his  bread  by  farming  or  trade ;  and  in  all 
probability,  his  wife  has  had  the  leisure  to  practise 
those  acquirements  which  she  possessed  at  the  time 
of  her  marriage.  But,  can  this  be  the  case  with  the 
farmer  or  the  tradesman's  wife  ?  She  has  to  help  to 
earn  a  provision  for  her  children;  or,  at  the  least,  to 
help  to  earn  a  store  for  sickness  or  old  age.  She, 
therefore,  ought  to  be  <][ualiiied  to  begin,  at  once,  to 
assist  her  husband  in  his  earnings :  the  way  in  which 
she  can  most  efficiently  assist,  is  by  taking  care  of 

%  his  property ;  by  expending  his  money  to  the  great- 
est advantage;  by  wasting  nothing;  by  making  the  ta- 
ble sufficiently  abundant  with  the  least  expense.  And 
how  is  she  to  do  these  things,  unless  she  have  been 
brought  v/p  to  understand  domestic  affairs  ?  How  is 
she  to  do  these  things,  if  she  have  been  taufht  to 
think  these  matters  beneath  her  study  ?  How  is  any 
man  to  expect  her  to  do  these  things,  if  she  have  been 
so  bred  up  as  to  make  her  habitually  look  upon  them 
as  worthy  the  attention  of  none  but  low  and  ignorant 
women  ? 

124.  Ignorant^  indeed!  Ignorance  consists  in  a 
want  of  Knowledge  of  those  things  which  your  call- 
ing or  state  of  life  naturally  supposes  you  to  under- 
stand. A ;  ploughman  is  not  an  ignorant  man  be- 
cause he  does  not  know  how  to  read :  if  he  knows 
how  to  plough,  he  is  not  to  be  called  an  ignorant 
man ;  but,  a  wife  may  be  justly  called  an  ignorant 
woman,  if  she  does  not  know  how  to  provide  a  din- 
ner for  her  husband.    It  is  cold  comfort  for  a  hun- 


*' 


'ft- 


-   Jl 


■^7 


i  Letter 

tionour 
3newed 
and  of 
,  which 
nished, 
until  it 

expect- 
i  chance 
,  a  man 
has  not 
id  in  all 
practise 
the  time 
with  the 
D  help  to 
least,  to 
e.    She, 
once,  to 
in  which 
[  care  of 
ne  great- 
igtheta- 
se.  And 
ive  been 

How  is 
luf.ht  to 
w  is  any 
avebeen 

on  them 
'gnorant 

ists  in  a 
our  call- 
0  under- 
man  be- 
e  knows 
gnorant 
ignorant 
ie  a  din- 
ar a  hun- 


III.] 


TO  A  L0VER« 


'107 


rv 


aan,  to  tell  him  how  delightfully  his  wife  plays 
aiv  bings :  lovers  may  live  on  very  aerial  diet ;  but 
husbands  stand  in  need  of  the  solids ;  and  young 
women  may  take  my  word  for  it,  that  a  constantly 
clean  board,  well  cooked  victuals,  a  house  in  order, 
and  a  cheerful  fire,  will  do  more  in  preserving  a 
husband's  heart,  than  all  the  ^^  dccoinplishmenisj^* 
taught  in  all  the  "  establi^hments^^  in  the  world. 

125.  Good  Temper.  This  is  a  very  difficult  thing 
to  ascertain  beforehand.  Smiles  are  so  cheap  ;  they 
are  so  easily  put  on  for  the  occasion ;  and,  besides, 
the  frowns  are,  according  to  the  lover's  whim,  inter- 
preted into  the  contrary.  By  '•'■good  iempa^,''^  I  do 
not  mean  easy  temper,  a  serenity  which  nothing  dis- 
turbs, for  that  is  a  mark  of  laziness.  Shdkiness,  if 
you  be  not  too  blind  to  perceive  it,  is  a  temper  to  be 
avoided  by  all  means.  A  sulky  man  is  bad  enough ; 
what,  then,  must  be  a  sulky  woman,  and  that  wo- 
man a  wife ;  a  constant  inmate,  a  companion  day 
and  night !  Only  think  of  the  delight  of  sitting  at 
the  same  table,  and  sleeping  in  the  same  bed,  for  a 
week,  and  not  exchange  a  word  all  the  while !  Very 
bad  to  be  scolding  for  such  a  length  of  time;  but 
this  is  far  better  than  the  sulks.  If  you  have  your 
eyes,  and  look  sharp,  you  will  discover  symptoms 
of  this,  if  it  unhappily  exist.  She  will,  at  some  time 
or  other,  show  it  towards  some  one  or  other  of  the 
family ;  or,  perhaps,  towards  yourself;  and  you  may 
be  quite  sure  that,  in  this  respect,  marriage  will  not 
mend  her.  Sulkiness  arises  from  capricious  displea- 
sure not  founded  in  reason.  The  party  takes  offence 
unjustifiably;  is  unable  to  frame  a  complaint,  and 
therefore  expresses  displeasure  by  silence.  The 
remedy  for  sulkiness  is,  to  suffer  it  to  take  its  fult 
swinff ;  but  it  is  better  not  to  have  the  disease  in 
your  house ;  and  to  be  married  to  it  is  httle  short  of 
madness. 

126.  Qlueridousmss  is  a  great  fault.  No  man,  and, 
especially,  no  woman,  likes  to  hear  eternal  plaintive- 
ness.  That  she  complain,  and  roundly  complain,  of 
your  want  of  punctuality,  of  your  coolness,  of  your 


'      !■'« 


ti; 


,-) 


V. 


i 


m 


■'III! 


10* 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


m 

'I 

I  K 


liliiir' 


!        i 


"l:'] 


111  li 


.Ulltl 

r  iHi 


ii  ii'i 


neglect,  of  your  liking  the  company  of  others :  these 
are  all  very  well,  more  especiall}'^  as  they  arc  fre- 
<iuently  but  too  just.  But  an  everlasting  complain- 
ing, without  rhyme  or  reason,  is  a  bad  sign.  It 
shows  want  of  patience,  and,  indeed,  want  of  sense. 
But,  the  contrary  of  this,  a  cold  indifference^  is  still 
worse.  "  When  will  you  come  again  ?  You  can 
never  find  time  to  come  here.  You  like  any  com- 
pany better  than  mine."  These,  when  groundless, 
are  v*»ry  teasing,  and  demonstrate  a  disposition  too 
full  of  anxiousness ;  but,  from  a  girl  who  always  re- 
ceives you  with  the  same  civil  smile,  lets  you,  at 
your  own  good  pleasure,  depart  with  the  same ;  and 
who,  when  you  take  her  by  the  hand,  holds  her  cold 
fingers  as  straight  as  sticks,  I  say  (or  should  if  I 
were  young,)  God,  in  his  mercy,  preserve  me ! 

127.  Pertinacity  is  a  very  bad  thing  in  any  body, 
and  ^specially  in  a  young  woman ;  and  it  is  sure  to 
increase  in  force  with  the  age  of  the  party.  To  have 
the  last  word  is  a  poor  triumph ;  but  with  some 
people  it  is  a  species  of  disease  of  the  mind.  In  a 
wife  it  must  be  extremely  troublesome ;  and,  if  you 
find  an  ounce  of  it  in  the  maid,  it  will  become  a 
pound  in  the  wife.  An  eternal  disputer  is  a  most 
disagreeable  companion ;  and  where  young  women 
thrust  their  say  into  conversations  carried  on  by 
older  persons,  give  their  opinions  in  a  positive  man- 
ner, and  court  a  contest  of  the  tongue,  those  must 
be  very  bold  men  who  will  encounter  them  as  wives. 

128.  Still,  of  all  the  faults  as  to  temper,  your  me- 
hmcholy  ladies  have  the  worst,  unless  you  have  the 
same  mental  disease.  Most  wives  arc,  at  time,  mise- 
ry-makers ;  but  these  carry  it  on  as  a  regular  trade. 
They  are  always  unhappy  about  something,  either 
past,  present,  or  to  come.  Both  arms  full  of 
children  is  a  pretty  efficient  remedy  in  most  cases ; 
but,  if  the  ingredients  be  wanting,  a  little  want^  a 
little  real  trouble,  a  little  genuine  affliction  must,  if 
you  would  effect  a  cure,  be  resorted  to.  But,  this  is 
very  painful  to  a  man  of  any  feeling ;  and,  therefore^ 


w 


td 


jetter 

these 
B  fre- 
plain- 
n.    It 
sense, 
is  still 
u  can 
com- 
idless, 
on  too 
lysre- 
jrou,  at 
s;  and 
er  cold 
lid  if  I 
b! 

T  body, 
sure  to 
?o  have 
1  some 
.    In  a 
if  you 
ome  a 
a  most 
women 
on  by 
e  man- 
must 
wives. 
3ur  w«- 
ave  the 
,  mise- 
trade. 
,  either 
full  of 
;  cases ; 
wantf  a 


III.] 


TO  A  tOVER. 


109 


the  best  way  is  to  avoid  a  connexion,  which  is  to 
give  you  a  life  of  wailing  and  sighs. 

129.  Beauty.  Though  I  have  reserved  this  to  the 
last  of  the  things  to  be  desired  in  a  wife,  I  by  no 
means  think  it  the  last  in  point  of  importance.  The 
less  favoured  part  of  the  sex  say,  that  "beauty  is 
but  skin-deep  ;"  and  this  is  very  true ;  but,  it  is  very 
agreeable,  tnough,  for  all  that.  Pictures  are  only 
paint-deep,  or  pencil-deep ;  but  we  admire  them, 
nevertheless.  "  Handsome  is  that  handsome  does^'* 
used  to  say  to  me  an  old  man.  who  had  marked  me 
out  for  his  not  over  handsome  daugliter.  "  Please 
your  eye  and  plague  your  heart"  is  an  adage  that 
want  of  beauty  invented,  I  dare  say,  more  than  a 
thousand  years  ago.  These  adages  would  say,  if 
they  had  but  the  courage,  that  beauty  is  inconsistent 
with  chastity,  with  sobriety  of  conduct,  and  with  all 
the  female  virtues.  The  argument  is,  that  beauty 
exposes  the  possessor  to  greater  temptation  than 
women  not  beautiful  are  exposed  to ;  and  that,  ther-e- 
fore,  their  fall  is  more  probable.  Let  us  see  a  little 
how  this  matter  stands. 

130.  It  is  certainly  true,  that  pretty  girls  will  have 
more,  and  more  ardent,  admirers  than  ugly  ones ; 
but,  as  to  the  temptation  when  in  their  unmarried 
state,  there  are  few  so  very  ugly  as  to  be  exposed  to 
no  temptation  at  all ;  and,  which  is  the  most  likely 
to  resist ;  she  who  has  a  choice  of  lovers,  or  she  who 
if  she  let  the  occasion  slip  may  never  have  it  again? 
Which  of  the  two  is  most  likely  to  set  a  high  value 
upon  her  reputation,  she  whom  all  beholders  admire, 
or  she  who  is  admired,  at  best,  by  mere  chance? 
And  as  to  women  in  the  married  state,  this  argu- 
ment assumes,  that,  when  they  fall,  it  is  from  their 
own  vicious  disposition;  when  the  fact  is,  that,  if 
you  search  the  annals  of  conjugal  infidelity,  you 
will  find,  that,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  the  faidt  is  in 
the  Jmshand.  It  is  his  neglect,  his  flagrant  disregard, 
his  frosty  indifference,  his  foul  example;  it  is  to 
these  that,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  he  owes  the  infi- 
delity of  his  wife ;  and,  if  I  were  to  say  ninety-nine 

10.. 


I     1       I  k,'    k 


ii 


■^: 


/ 


i   ( 


r  1 

■  •  t    . 

9 

•A 


j^ 


.11 


I 


l!i. 


.110 


oobbbtt's  AnvicB 


[Letter 


llHi 


i!li 


times  out  of  a  hundred,  the  facts,  if  verified,  would, 
I  am  certain,  bear  me  out.  And  whence  this  neg- 
lect, this  disregard,  this  frosty  indifference ;  whence 
this  foul  examples  Because  it  is  easy,  in  so  many 
cases,  to  find  some  women  more  beautiful  than  the 
wife.  This  is  j\o  justification  for  the  husband  to 
plead ;  for  he  has,  with  his  eyes  open,  made  a  so- 
lemn contract :  if  he  have  not  beauty  enough  to 
please  him,  he  should  have  sought  it  in  some  other 
woman :  if,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  he  have  pre- 
ferred rank  or  money  to  beauty,  he  is  an  unprinci- 
pled man,  if  he  do  any  thing  to  make  her  unhappy 
who  has  brought  him  the  rank  or  the  money.  At 
any  rate,  as  conjugal  infidelity  is,  in  so  many  cases ; 
as  it  is  generally  caused  by  the  want  of  affection  and 
due  attention  in  the  husband,  it  follows,  of  course, 
that  it  must  more  frequently  happen  in  the  case  of 
ugly  than  in  that  of  handsome  women. 

131.  In  point  of  dress,  nothing  need  be  said  to 
convince  any  reasonable  man,  that  beautiful  women 
will  be  less  expensive  in  this  respect  than  women  of 
a  contrary  description.  Experience  teaches  us,  that 
ugly  women  are  always  the  most  studious  about 
their  dress ;  and,  if  we  had  never  observed  upon  the 
subject,  reason  would  tell  us,  that  it  must  be  so. 
Few  women  are  handsome  without  knowing  it ;  and 
if  they  know  that  their  features  naturally  attract 
admiration,  will  they  desire  to  draw  it  off,  and  to  fix 
it  on  lace  and  silks  and  jewels? 

132.  As  to  manners  and  temper  there  are  certainly 
some  handsome  women  who  are  conceited  and  arro- 
gant ;  but,  as  they  have  all  the  best  reasons  in  the 
world  for  being  pleased  with  themselves,  they  afford 
you  the  best  chance  of  general  good  humour ;  and 
this  good  humour  is  a  very  valuable  commodity  in 
the  married  state.  Some  that  are  called  handsome, 
and  that  are  such  at  the  first  glance,  are  dull,  inani- 
mate things,  that  might  as  well  have  been  made  of  wax, 
or  of  wood.  But,  the  truth  is,  that  this  is  not  heauty^ 
for  this  is  not  to  be  found  only  in  the  form  of  the 
features,  but  in  the  movements  of  them  also.    Be- 


[jetfer 

rould, 
I  neg- 
hence 
many 
Bin  the 
and  to 
a  so- 
igh  to 
other 
;re  pre- 
princi- 
ihappy 
y.    At 
cases ; 
Lon  and 
course, 
case  of 

said  to 
women 
jmen  oi 
us,  that 
s  about 
pon  the 
be  so. 
it ;  and 
attract 
id  to  fix 

Brtainly 
id  arro- 
inthe 
y  afford 
ar;  and 
)dity  in 
idsome, 
1,  inani- 
ofwax, 
;  heatUyj 
of  the 
fco.    Be- 


lli.] 


TO  A   LOVER* 


111 


sides,  here  nature  is  very  impartial ;  for  she  gives 
animation  promiscuously  to  the  handsome  as  well 
as  to  the  ugly ;  and  the  want  of  this  in  the  former  is 
surely  as  bearable  as  in  the  latter. 

133.  But,  the  great  use  of  female  beauty,  the  great 
practical  advantage  of  it  is,  that  it  naturally  and  un- 
avoidably tends  to  keep  the  husband  in  good  humour 
with  himself y  to  make  him,  to  use  the  dealer's  plurase, 
pleased  with  his  bargain.  When  old  age  approach- 
es, and  the  parties  have  become  endeared  to  each 
other  by  a  long  series  of  joint  cares  and  interests, 
and  when  children  have  come  and  bound  them  to- 
gether by  the  strongest  ties  that  nature  has  in  store ; 
at  this  age  the  features  and  the  person  are  of  less 
consequence ;  but,  in  the  young  days  of  matrimony, 
when  the  roving  eye  of  the  bachelor  is  scarcely  be- 
come steady  in  the  head  of  the  husband,  it  is  dan- 
gerous for  him  to  see,  every  time  he  stirs  out,  a  face 
more  captivating  than  that  of  the  person  to  whom  he 
is  bound  for  life.  Beauty  is,  in  some  degree,  a  mat- 
ter of  taste :  what  one  man  admires,  another  does* 
not ;  and  it  is  fortunate  for  us  that  it  is  thus.  But 
still  there  are  certain  things  that  all  men  admire ; 
and  a  husband  is  always  pleased  when  he  perceives 
that  a  portion,  at  least,  of  these  things  are  in  his  own 
possession :  he  takes  this  possession  as  a  compliment 
to  himself:  there  must,  he  will  think  the  world  will 
believe,  have  been  some  merit  in  him,  some  charm, 
seen  or  unseen,  to  have  caused  him  to  be  blessed 
with  the  acquisition. 

134.  And  then  there  arise  so  many  things,  sickness, 
misfortune  in  business,  losses,  many,  many  things, 
wholly  unexpected ;  and,  there  are  so  many  circum- 
stances, perfectly  nameless,  to  communicate  to  the 
new-married  man  the  fact,  that  is  not  a  real  angel  of 
whom  he  has  got  the  possession ;  there  are  so  many 
things  of  this  sort,  so  many  and  such  powerful 
dampers  of  the  passions,  and  so  many  incentives  to 
cod  rdiection ;  that  it  requires  something,  and  a 
good  d.eal  too,  to  keep  the  husband  in  countenance 
in  this  his  altered  and  enlightened  state.    The  pas- 


m 


15' 


^-      \ 


'  1 

<                                                         1 

112 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


WW 


.?'.  ',1  '' 


!ii:;i:  iir 


m^H 


»■ 


fiion  of  women  does  not  cool  so  soon  ;  the  lamp 
of  their  love  burns  more  steadily,  and  even  bright- 
ens as  it  burns :  and,  there  is,  the  young  man  may  be 
assured,  a  vast  difference  in  the  effect  of  the  fond- 
ness of  a  pretty  woman  and  that  of  one  of  a  differ- 
ent description ;  and,  let  reason  and  philosophy  say 
what  they  will,  a  man  will  come  down  stairs  of  a 
morning  better  pleased  after  seeing  the  former,  than 
he  would  after  seeing  the  latter,  in  her  night-cap. 

135.  To  be  sure,  when  a  man  has,  from  whatever 
inducement,  once  married  a  woman,  he  is  unjust  and 
cruel  if  he  even  slight  her  on  account  of  her  want  of 
beauty,  and,  if  he  treat  her  harshly,  on  this  account, 
he  is  a  brute.  But,  it  requires  a  greater  degree  of 
reflection  and  consideration  than  foils  to  the  lot  of 
men  in  general  to  make  them  act  with  justice  in 
such  a  case ;  and,  therefore,  the  best  way  is  to  guard, 
if  you  can,  against  the  temptation  to  commit  such 
injustice,  which  is  to  be  done  in  no  other  way,  than 
by  not  marrying  any  one  that  you  do  not  think  hand- 
some, 

136.  I  must  not  conclude  this  address  to  the  Lo- 
ver without  something  on  the  subject  of  seduction 
and  inconstancy.  In,  perhaps,  nineteen  cases  out  of 
twenty,  there  is,  in  the  unfortunate  cases  of  illicit 
gratification,  no  seduction  at  all,  the  passion,  the 
absence  of  virtue,  and  the  crime,  being  all  mutual. 
But,  there  are  other  cases  of  a  very  different  descrip- 
tion ;  and  where  a  man  goes  coolly  and  deliberately 
to  work,  first  to  gain  and  rivet  the  affections  of  a 
young  girl,  then  to  take  advantage  of  those  affec- 
tions to  accomplish  that  which  he  knows  must  be 
her  ruin,  and  plunge  her  into  misery  for  life  ;  when 
a  man  does  this  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  momentary 
gratification,  he  must  be  either  a  selfish  and  unfeel- 
ing brute,  unworthy  of  the  name  of  man,  or  he 
must  have  a  heart  little  inferior,  in  point  of  obdura- 
cy, to  that  of  the  murderer.  Let  young  women, 
however,  be  aware ;  let  them  be  well  aware,  that 
few,  indeed,  are  the  cases  in  which  this  apology  can 
possibly  avail  them.    Their  character  is  not  solely 


Letter 

lamp 
»right- 
laybe 
!  fond- 
differ- 
ly  say 
rs  of  a 
r,  than 
cap. 
latever 
list  and 
want  of 
cconnt, 
gree  of 
e  lot  of 
3tice  in 
)  guard, 
[lit  such 
ly,  than 
Je  hand- 

PHE  Lo- 
eductim 
s  out  of 
of  illicit 
on,  the 
mutual, 
descrip- 
berately 
ons  of  a 
se  affec- 
must  be 
;  when 
mentary 
i  unfeel- 
,  or  he 
obdura- 
women, 
Bire,  that 
ogy  can 
t  solely 


ni.] 


TO  A  LOVER. 


)13 


theirs,  but  belongs,  in  part,  to  their  family  and  kin- 
dred. They  may,  in  the  case  contemplated,  be  ob- 
jects of  compassion  with  the  world ;  but  what  con- 
trition, what  repentance,  what  remorse,  what  that 
even  the  tenderest  benevolence  can  suggest,  is  to 
heal  the  wounded  hearts  of  humbled,  disgraced,  but 
still  affectionate,  parents,  brethren  and  sisters  1 

137.  As  to  constancy  in  Lovers,  though  I  do  not 
approve  of  the  saying,  "At  lovers'  lies  Jove  laughs ;" 
yet,  when  people  are  young,  one  object  may  sup- 
plant another  in  their  affections,  not  only  without 
criminality  in  the  party  experiencing  the  change, 
but  without  blame ;  and  it  is  honest,  and  even  hu- 
mane, to  act  upon  the  change ;  because  it  would  be 
both  foolish  and  cruel  to  marry  one  girl  while  you 
liked  another  better :  and  the  same  holds  good  with 
regard  to  the  other  sex.  Even  when  marriage 
has  been  pro7M25ec2,  and  that,  too,  in  the  most  solemn 
manner,  it  is  better  for  both  parties  to  break  off, 
than  to  be  coupled  together  with  the  reluctant  as- 
sent of  either ;  and  I  have  always  thought,  that  ac- 
tions for  damages,  on  this  score,  if  brought  by  the 
girl,  show  a  want  of  delicacy  as  well  as  of  spirit ; 
and,  if  brought  by  the  man,  excessive  meanness. 
Some  damage  may,  indeed,  have  been  done  to  the 
complaining  party ;  but  no  damage  equal  to  what 
that  party  would  have  sustained  from  a  marriage,  to 
which  the  other  party  would  have  yielded  by  a  sort 
of  compulsion,  producing  to  almost  a  certainty  what 
Hogarth,  in  his  Marriage  a  la  Mode,  n>ost  aptly 
typifies  by  two  curs,  of  different  sexes,  fajtened  to- 
gether by  what  sportsmen  call  couples,  pulling  differ- 
ent ways,  and  snarling  and  barking  and  foaming 
Jike  furies. 

138.  But  when  promises  have  been  made  to  a 
young  woman;  when  they  have  been  relied  on 
for  any  considerable  time ;  when  it  is  manifest  that 
her  peace  and  happiness,  and,  perhaps,  her  life,  de- 
pend upon  their  fulfilment ;  when  things  have  been 
carried  to  this  length,  the  change  in  the  Lover  ought 
to  be  announced  in  the  manner  most  likely  to  make 

JO* 


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114 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


!hi:  • 


::,iM 


M!i 


the  disappointment  as  supportable  as  the  case  will 
admit  of:  for,  though  it  is  better  to  break  the  pro- 
mise than  to  marry  one  while  you  like  another 
better;  though  it  is  better  for  both  parties,  you 
lAve  no  right  to  break  the  heart  of  her  who  has,  and 
that,  too,  with  your  accordance,  and,  indeed,  at  your 
instigation,  or,  at  least,  by  your  encouragement,  con- 
fided to  your  fidelity.  You  cannot  help  your  change 
of  affections ;  but  you  can  help  making  the  transfer 
in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  the  destruction,  or  even 
probable  destruction,  nay,  if  it  were  but  the  deep 
misery,  of  her,  to  gain  whose  heart  you  had  pledged 
your  own.  You  ought  to  proceed  by  slow  degrees; 
you  ought  to  call  time  to  your  aid  in  executing  the 
painful  task ;  you  ought  scrupulously  to  avoid  every 
thing  calculated  to  aggravate  the  sufferings  of  the 
disconsolate  party. 

139.  A  striking,  a  monstrous,  instance  of  conduct 
contrary  of  this  has  recently  been  placed  upon  the 
melancholy  records  of  the  Coroner  of  Middlesex; 
which  have  informed  an  indignant  public,  that  a 
young  man,  having  first  secured  the  affections  of  a 
virtuous  young  woman,  next  promised  her  marriage, 
then  caused  the  banns  to  be  published,  and  then,  on 
the  very  day  appointed  for  the  performance  of  the 
ceremony,  married  another  woman,  in  the  same 
church ;  and  this,  too,  without,  as  he  avowed,  any 

Provocation,  and  without  the  smallest  intimation  or 
int  of  his  intention  to  the  disappointed  party,  who, 
unable  to  support  existence  under  a  blow  so  cruel, 
put  an  end  to  that  existence  by  the  most  deadly  and 
the  swiftest  poison.  If  any  thing  could  wipe  from 
our  country  the  stain  of  having  given  birth  to  a 
monster  so  barbarous  as  this,  it  would  be  the  abhor- 
rence of  him  which  the  jury  expressed ;  and  which, 
from  every  tongue,  he  ought  to  hear  to  the  last  mo- 
ment of  his  life. 

140.  Nor  has  a  man  any  right  to  sport  with  the 
affections  of  a  young  woman,  though  he  stop  short  of 
^poaitive  promises.  Vanity  is  generally  the  tempter 
m  this  case ;  a  desire  to  be  regarded  as  being  admi- 


'&i 


II  ;t 


Letter 

e  will 
epro- 
lother 
J,  you 
IS,  and 
t  your 
it,  con- 
jhange 
ransfer 
)r  even 
e  deep 
)ledged 
egrees; 
ing  the 
d  every 
of  the 

conduct 
pon  the 
ddlesex; 
5,  that  a 
)ns  of  a 
larriage, 
then,  on 
e  of  the 
le  same 
red,  any 
ation  or 
y,  who, 
o  cruel, 
adly  and 
pe  from 
rth  to  a 
le  abhor- 
d  which, 
last  mo- 

with  the 
short  of 
J  tempter 
ig  admi- 


IU.| 


TO  A  LOVER. 


115 


^  by  the  women ;  a  very  despicable  species  of 
vanity,  but  frequently  greatly  mischievous,  not  with- 
standnig.  You  do  not,  indeed,  actually,  in  so  many 
words,  promise  to  marry ;  but  the  general  tenor  of 
your  language  and  deportment  has  that  meaning ; 
you  know  that  your  meaning  is  so  understood ;  and 
if  you  have  not  such  meaning ;  if  you  be  fixed  by 
some  previous  engagement  with,  or  greater  liking 
for,  another ;  if  you  know  you  are  here  sowing  the 
seeds  of  disappointment ;  and  if  you,  keeping  your 
previous  engagement  or  greater  liking  a  secret,  per- 
severe, in  spite  of  the  admonitions  of  conscience, 
you  are  guilty  of  deliberate  deception,  injustice  and 
cruelty :  you  make  to  God  an  ungrateful  return  for 
those  endowments  which  have  enabled  you  to 
achieve  this  inglorious  and  unmanly  triumph ;  and 
if,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  you  ghry  in  such  tri- 
umph, you  may  have  person,  riches,  talents  to  ex- 
cite envy ;  but  every  just  and  humane  man  will 
abhor  your  heart. 

141.  There  are,  however,  certain  cases  in  which 
you  deceive,  or  nearly  deceive,  yourself;  cases  in 
which  you  are,  by  degrees  and  by  circumstances, 
deluded  into  something  very  nearly  resembling  sin- 
cere love  for  a  second  object,  the  first  still,  however, 
maintaining  her  ground  in  your  heart;  cases  in 
which  you  are  not  actuated  by  vanity,  in  which  you 
are  not  guilty  of  injustice  and  cruelty;  but  ca- 
ses in  which  you,  nevertheless,  do  wran^;  and  as  I 
once  did  a  wrong  of  this  sort  myself,  I  will  here  give 
a  history  of  it,  as  a  warning  to  every  young  man 
who  shall  read  this  little  book ;  that  being  the  best 
and,  indeed,  the  only  atonement,  that  I  can  make,  or 
ever  could  have  made,  for  this  only  serious  sin  that 
I  ever  committed  against  the  female  sex. 

142.  The  Province  of  New  Brunswick,  in  North 
America,  in  which  I  passed  my  years  from  the  age 
of  eighteen  to  that  of  twenty-six,  consists,  in  gene- 
ral, of  heaps  of  rocks,  in  the  interstices  of  which 
grow  the  pine,  the  spruce,  and  various  sorts  of 
fir  trees,  or,  where  the  woods  have  been  burnt 


«?« 


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116 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


down,  the  bushes  of  the  raspberry  or  those  of  the 
huckleberry.  T^lie  province  is  cut  asunder  length- 
wise, by  a  great  river,  called  the  St.  John,  about  two 
hundred  miles  in  length,  and,  at  half  way  from  the 
mouth  full  a  mile  wide.  Into  this  main  river  run 
innumerable  smaller  rivers,  there  called  creeks. 
On  the  sides  of  these  creeks  the  land  is,  in  places, 
clear  of  rocks ;  it  is,  in  these  places,  generally  good 
and  productive ;  the  trees  that  grow  here  are  the 
birch,  the  maple,  and  others  of  the  deciduous  class ; 
natural  meadows  here  and  there  present  themselves ; 
and  some  of  these  spots  far  surpass  in  rural  beauty 
any  other  that  my  eyes  ever  beheld ;  the  creeks, 
abounding  towards  their  sources  in  water-falls  of 
endless  variety,  as  well  in  form  as  in  magnitude,  and 
always  teeming  with  fish,  while  water-fowl  enliven 
their  surface,  and  while  wild-pigeons,  of  the  gayest 
plumage,  flutter,  in  thousands  upon  thousands, 
amongst  the  branches  of  the  beautiful  trees,  which, 
sometimes,  for  miles  together,  form  an  arch  over 
the  creeks. 

143.  I,  in  one  of  my  rambles  in  the  woods,  in 
which  I  took  great  delight,  came  to  a  spot  at  a  very 
short  distance  from  the  source  of  one  of  these  creeks. 
Here  was  every  thing  to  delight  the  eye,  and  espe- 
cially of  one  like  me,  who  seem  to  have  been  bom 
to  love  rural  life,  and  trees  and  plants  of  all  sorts. 
Here  were  about  two  hundred  acres  of  natural 
meadow,  interspersed  with  patches  of  maple-trees 
in  various  forms  and  of  various  extent ;  the  creek 
(there  about  thirty  miles  from  its  point  of  joining 
the  St.  John)  ran  down  the  middle  of  the  spot,  which 
formed  a  sort  of  dish,  the  high  and  rocky  hills  rising 
all  around  it,  except  at  the  outlet  of  the  creek,  and 
these  hills  crowned  with  lofty  pines :  in  the  hills 
were  the  sources  of  the  creek,  the  waters  of  which 
came  down  in  cascades,  for  any  one  of  which  many  a 
nobleman  in  England  would,  if  he  could  transfer  it, 
give  a  good  slice  of  his  fertile  estate ;  and  in  the 
creek-  at  the  foot  of  the  cascades,  there  were,  in  the 


^■* 


Letter     I 

of  the 
cnglh- 
ut  two 
am  the 
er  run 

GREEKS. 

places, 
ly  good 
are  the 
s  class ; 
iselves ; 
L  beauty 

creeks, 
-falls  of 
ude,  and 

enliven 
e  gayest 
ousands, 
1,  which, 
rch  over 

roods,  in 
at  a  very 
ie  creeks. 
;nd  espe- 
een  bom 
all  sorts. 
'  natural 
iple-trees 
he  creek 
f  joining 
ot,  which 
ills  rising 
reek,  and 
the  hills 
of  which 
h  many  a 
ransfer  it, 
id  in  the 
=516,  in  the 


III.J 


TO  A  LOVER. 


117 


season,  salmon  the  finest  in  the  world,  and  so  abun- 
dant, and  so  easily  taken,  as  to  be  used  for  manuring 
the  land. 

144.  If  nature,  in  her  very  best  humour,  had 
made  a  spot  for  the  express  purpose  of  captivating 
me,  she  could  not  have  exceeded  the  efforts  which 
she  had  herr  made.  Out  I  found  something  here 
besides  these  rude  works  of  nature ;  I  found  some- 
thing in  the  fashioning  of  which  wan  had  had 
something  to  do.  I  found  a  large  and  well-built  log 
dwelling  house,  standing  (in  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber) on  the  ecge  of  a  very  good  field  of  Indian 
Corn,  by  the  side  of  which  there  was  a  piece  of 
buck-wheat  just  then  mowed.  I  found  a  homestead, 
and  some  very  pretty  cows.  I  found  all  the  things 
by  which  an  easy  and  happy  farmer  is  surrounded ; 
and  I  found  still  something  besides  all  these  j  some- 
thing that  was  destined  to  give  me  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure  and  also  a  great  deal  of  pain,  both  in  their 
extreme  degree  ;  and  both  of  which,  in  spite  of  the 
lapse  of  forty  years,  now  make  an  attempt  to  rush 
back  into  my  heart. 

145.  Partly  from  misinformation,  and  partly  from 
miscalculation,  I  had  lost  my  way  ;  and,  quite  alone, 
but  armed  with  my  sword  and  a  braee  of  pistols,  to 
defend  myself  against  the  bears,  I  arrived  at  the  log- 
house  in  the  middle  of  a  moonlight  night,  the  hoar 
frost  covering  the  trees  and  the  grass.  A  stout  and 
clamorous  dog,  kept  off  by  the  gleaming  of  my 
sword,  waked  the  master  of  the  house,  who  got  up, 
received  me  with  great  hospitality,  got  me  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  put  me  into  a  feather-bed,  a  thing 
that  I  had  been  a  stranger  to  for  some  years.  I,  be- 
ing very  tired,  had  tried  to  pass  the  night  in  the 
woods,  between  the  trunks  of  two  large  trees,  which 
had  fallen  side  by  side,  and  within  a  yard  of  each 
other.  I  had  made  a  nest  for  myself  of  dry  fern, 
and  had  made  a  covering  by  laying  boughs  of  spruce 
across  the  trunk  of  the  trees.  But  unable  to  sleep 
on  account  of  the  cold ;  becoming  sick  from  the 
great  quantity  of  w  ater  that  I  had  drank  during  the 


•r  lit 


r<.' 


J' 


I     I 


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ii: 


ioi 


118 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


mi  "n 


k  J 


!:r!i| 


fi.  •  ;; 


m 


heat  of  the  day,  and  being,  moreover,  alarmed  at  the 
noise  of  the  bears,  and  lest  one  of  them  should  find 
me  in  a  defenceless  state,  I  had  roused  myself  up. 
and  had  crept  along  as  well  as  I  could.  So  that  no 
hero  of  eastern  romance  ever  experienced  a  more  en- 
chanting change. 

146.  I  had  got  into  the  house  of  one  of  those 
Yankee  Loyalists,  who,  at  the  close  of  the  revolu- 
tionary war  (which,  until  it  had  succeeded,  was 
called  a  rebellion)  had  accepted  of  grants  of  land  in 
the  King's  Province  of  New  Brunswick ;  and  who, 
to  the  great  honour  of  England,  had  been  furnished 
with  all  the  means  of  making  new  and  comfortable 
settlements.  I  was  suffered  to  sleep  till  breakfast 
time,  when  I  found  a  table,  the  like  of  which  I  have 
since  seen  so  many  in  the  United  States,  loaded  with 
good  things.  The  master  and  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  aged  about  fifty,  were  like  what  an  English 
farmer  and  his  wife  were  half  a  century  ago.  There 
were  two  sons,  tall  and  stout,  who  appeared  to  have 
comp  in  from  work,  and  the  youngest  of  whom  was 
about  my  age,  then  twenty-three.  But  there  was 
another  member  of  the  family,  aged  nineteen,  who 
(dressed  according  to  the  neat  and  simple  fashion 
of  New  England,  whence  she  had  come  with  her 
parents  five  or  six  years  before)  had  her  long  light- 
brown  hair  twisted  nicely  up,  and  fastened  on  the 
top  of  her  head,  in  which  head  were  a  pair  of  lively- 
blue  eyes,  associated  with  features  of  which  that 
softness  and  that  sweetness,  so  characteristic  of 
American  girls,  were  the  predominant  expressions, 
the  whole  being  set  off  by  a  complexion  indicative  of 
glowing  health,  and  forming,  figure,  movements, 
and  all  taken  together,  an  assemblage  of  beauties, 
far  surpassing  any  that  I  had  ever  seen  but  once  in 
my  life.  That  once  was,  too,  two  years  agmie  ;  and, 
in  such  a  case  and  at  such  an  age,  two  years,  two 
whole  years,  is  a  long,  long  while  !  It  was  a  space 
as  long  as  the  eleventh  part  of  my  then  life !  Here 
was  the  present  against  the  absent:  here  was  the 
power  of  the  eyes  pitted  against  that  of  the  memory : 


[ietter 

at  the 
d  find 
ilf  up. 
hat  no 
jre  en- 

f  those 
revolu- 
;d,  was 
land  in 
id  who, 
rnished 
fortable 
reakfast 
ti  I  have 
led  with 
;s  of  the 
Enghsh 
.    There 
i  to  have 
horn  was 
here  was 
ien,  who 
;  fashion 
with  her 
mg  light- 
id  on  the 
•of  lively 
hich  that 
eristic  of 
iressions, 
icative  of 
ivements, 
beauties, 
,t  once  in 
\e;  and, 
ears,  two 
is  a  space 
Ifel   Here 
was  the 
memory : 


III.1 


TO  A  LOVER. 


•i.'-" 


119 


here  were  all  the  senses  up  in  arms  to  subdue  the 
influence  of  the  thoughts :  here  was  vanity,  here 
was  passion,  here  was  the  spot  of  all  spots  in  the 
world,  and  here  were  also  the  life,  and  the  manners 
and  the  habits  and  the  pursuits  that  I  delighted  in : 
here  was  every  thing  that  imagination  can  conceive, 
luiited  in  a  conspiracy  against  the  poor  little  bru- 
nette in  England  I  What,  then,  did  I  fall  in  love  at 
once  with  this  bouquet  of  lilies  and  roses  ?  Oh  !  by 
no  means.  I  was,  however,  so  enchanted  with  tJte 
place  ;  I  so  much  enjoyed  its  tranquillity,  the  shade 
of  the  maple  trees,  the  business  of  the  farm,  the 
sports  of  the  water  and  of  the  woods,  that  I  stayed 
at  it  to  the  last  possible  minute,  promising,  at  my 
departure,  to  come  again  as  often  as  I  possibly  could ; 
a  promise  which  I  most  punctually  fulfilled. 

147.  Winter  is  the  great  season  for  jaunting  and 
dancing  (called frolicki72g')  in  America.  In  this  pro- 
vince the  river  and  the  creeks  were  the  only  roads 
from  settlement  to  settlement.  In  summer  we  travelled 
in  canoes;  in  winter  in  sleiglis  on  the  ice  or  snow.  Du- 
ring more  than  two  5'^ears  I  spent  all  the  time  I  could 
with  my  Yankee  friends :  they  were  all  fond  of  me :  I 
talked  to  them  about  country  affairs,  my  evident  de- 
light in  which  they  took  as  a  compliment  to  them- 
selves :  the  father  and  mother  treated  me  as  one  of  their 
children;  the  sons  as  a  brother;  and  the  daughter, 
who  was  as  modest  and  as  full  of  sensibility  as  she  was 
beautiful,  in  a  way  to  which  a  chap  much  less  san- 
guine than  I  was  would  have  given  the  tenderest  in- 
terpretation ;  which  treatment  I,  especially  in  the 
last-mentioned  case,  most  cordially  repaid. 

148.  It  is  when  you  meet  in  company  with  others 
of  your  own  age  that  you  are,  in  love  matters,  put, 
most  frequently,  to  the  test,  and  exposed  to  detec- 
tion. The  next  door  neighbour  might,  in  that  coun- 
try, be  ten  miles  off.  We  used  to  have  a  frolic,  some- 
times at  one  house  and  sometimes  at  another.  Here, 
where  female  eyes  are  very  much  on  the  alert,  no 
secret  can  long  be  kept ;  and  very  soon  father,  mo- 
ther, brothers  and  the  whole  neighbourhood  looked 


':    [*<;.":''j' 


in 


!  r'' 


,1 


■■J 


i-^  fei 


'^■;|  •■-X.. 


\  \ 


tl 


I! 


120 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


•t* 


II.  '■'' 


rr/i 


i  ijii 


M 


upon  the  thing  as  certain,  not  excepting  herself,  to 
whom  I,  however,  had  never  once  even  talked  of 
marriage,  and  had  never  even  told  her  that  I  loved 
her.  But  I  had  a  thousand  times  done  these  by  im- 
plication,  taking  into  view  the  interpretation  that  she 
would  naturally  put  upon  my  looks,  appellations  and 
acts ;  and  it  was  of  this,  that  I  had  to  accuse  myself. 
Yet  I  was  not  a  deceiver;  for  my  affection  for  her 
was  very  great :  I  spent  no  really  pleasant  hours  but 
with  her:  I  was  uneasy  if  she  showed  the  slightest 
regard  for  any  other  young  man:  I  was  unhappy  if 
the  smallest  matter  affected  her  health  or  spirits :  I 
quitted  her  in  dejection,  and  returned  to  her  with 
eager  delight :  many  a  time,  when  I  could  get  leave 
but  for  a  day,  I  paddled  in  a  canoe  two  whole  suc- 
ceeding nights,  in  order  to  pass  that  day  with  her. 
If  this  was  not  love,  it  was  first  cousin  to  it ;  for  as 
to  any  criminal  intention  I  no  more  thought  of  it, 
in  her  case,  than  if  slie  had  been  my  sister.  Many 
times  I  put  to  myself  the  questions  :  "  What  am  I 
at  ?  Is  not  this  wrong  ?  Why  do  IgoV  But  still  I 
went. 

149.  Then,  farther  in  my  excuse,  my  prior  m- 
g'agement,  though  carefully  left  un alluded  to  by  both 
parties,  was,  in  that  thin  population,  and  owing  to  the 
singular  circumstances  of  it,  and  to  the  great  talk 
that  there  always  was  about  me, perfectly  weUknoini 
to  her  and  all  her  family.  It  was  matter  of  so  much 
notoriety  and  conversation  in  the  Province,  that 
General  Carleton  (brother  of  the  late  Lord  Dor- 
chester), who  was  the  Governor  when  I  was  there, 
when  he,  about  fifteen  years  afterwards,  did  me  the 
honour,  on  his  return  to  England,  to  come  and  sec 
me  at  my  house  in  Duke  Street,  Westminster,  asked, 
before  he  went  away,  to  see  my  wife,  of  whom  he 
had  heard  so  much  before  her  marriage.  So  that 
here  was  no  deception  on  my  part :  but  still  I  ought 
not  to  have  suffered  even  the  most  distant  hope  to  be 
entertained  by  a  person  so  innocent,  so  amiable,  for 
whom  I  had  so  nuicli  affection  and  to  whose  heart  I 
had  no  right  to  give  a  single  twinge.    I  ought,  from 


Xelter 

self,  to 
ked  of 
I  loved 
by  im- 
hat  she 
3ns  and 
myself, 
for  her 
Durs  but 
slightest 
lappy  if 
pirits:  I 
ler  with 
ret  leave 
tole  suc- 
irith  her. 
t ;  for  as 
rht  of  it, 
•.    Many 
nat  am  I 
But  still  I 


III.  J 


t: 


TO  A  LOVER. 


121 


the  very  first,  to  have  prevented  the  possibility  of 
her  ever  feeling  pain  on  my  account.  1  was  young, 
to  be  sure ;  but  I  was  old  enough  to  know  what  was 
my  duty  in  this  case,  and  I  ought,  dismissing  my 
own  feelings,  to  have  had  the  resolution  to  perform  it. 

150.  The  last  fartiTig  came  ;  and  now  came  my 
just  punishment !  The  time  was  known  to  every  bo- 
dy, and  was  irrevocably  fixed  ;  for  I  had  to  move 
with  a  regiment,  and  the  embarkation  of  a  regiment 
is  an  epoch  in  a  thinly  settled  province.  To  describe 
this  parting  would  be  too  painful  even  at  this  distant 
day,  and  with  this  frost  of  age  upon  my  head.  The 
kind  and  virtuous  father  came  forty  miles  to  see  me 
just  as  I  was  going  on  board  in  the  river.  His  looks 
and  words  I  have  never  forgotten.  As  the  vessel  de- 
scended, she  passed  the  mouth  of  that  creek  which  I 
had  so  often  entered  -  /ith  delight ;  and  though  Eng- 
land, and  all  that  England  contained,  were  before  me, 
I  lost  sight  of  this  creek  with  an  aching  heart. 

151.  On  what  trifles  turn  the  great  events  in  the 
life  of  man  !  If  I  had  received  a  cool  letter  from  my 
intended  wife ;  if  I  had  only  heard  a  rumour  of  any 
thing  from  which  fickleness  in  her  might  have  been 
inferred ;  if  I  had  found  in  her  any,  even  the  small- 
est, abatement  of  affection  ;  if  she  had  but  let  go  any 
one  of  the  hundred  strings  by  which  she  held  my 
heart :  if  any  of  these,  never  would  the  world  have 
heard  of  me.  Young  as  I  was ;  able  as  I  was  as  a  soldier ; 
proud  as  I  was  of  the  admiration  and  commendations  of 
which  I  was  the  object ;  fond  as  I  was,  too,  of  the 
command,  which,  at  so  early  an  age,  my  rare  con- 
duct and  great  natural  talents  had  given  me ;  san- 
guine as  was  my  mind,  and  brilliant  as  were  my  pros- 
pects :  yet  I  had  seen  so  much  of  the  meannesses, 
the  unjust  partialities,  the  insolent  pomposity,  the 
disgusting  dissipations  of  that  way  of  life,  that  I  was 
weary  of  it :  I  longed,  exchanging  my  fine  laced  coat 
for  the  Yankee  farmer's  home-spun,  to  be  where  I 
should  never  behold  the  supple  crouch  of  servility, 
and  never  hear  the  hectoring  voice  of  authority, 


again;  and,  on  the 


lonely 
11 


banks  of  this  branch- 


t, 


I 


—J  5 


\  •\ 


122    ^ 


COBBETT  S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


'#. 


covered  creek,  which  contained  (she  out  of  the  ques- 
tion) every  thing  congenial  to  my  taste  and  dear  to 
my  heart,  I,  unapplauded,  unfeared,  unenvied  and 
uncalumniated,  should  have  lived  and  died. 


hiii 


LETTER  IV. 


'>:f>^ 


I.    .  .''  -'r     <J     (I 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


t^' 


H't'l^ 


ill 


!lilil 


•|H  i 


152.  It  is  ia  this  capacity  that  your  conduct  will 
have  the  greatest  effect  on  your  happiness;  and  a 
great  deal  will  depend  on  the  manner  in  which  you 
begin.  I  am  to  suppose  that  you  have  made  a  good 
choice;  but  a  good  young  woman  may  be  made,  by 
a  weak,  a  harsh,  a  neglectful,  an  extravagant,  or  a  pro- 
fligate husband,  a  really  bad  wife  and  mother.  All  in 
a  wife,  beyond  her  own  natural  disposition  and  edu- 
cation is,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  the  work  of  her 
husband. 

153.  The  first  thing  of  all,  be  the  rank  in  life  what 
it  may,  is  to  convince  her  of  the  necessity  of  modera- 
tion  of  expense;  and  to  make  her  clearly  see  the  jus- 
tice of  beginning  to  act  upon  the  presumption,  that 
there  are  children  comings  that  they  are  to  be  pro- 
vided for,  and  that  she  is  to  assist  in  the  making  of 
that  provision.  Legally  speaking,  we  have  a  right 
to  do  what  we  please  with  our  own  property,  whidi, 
however,  is  not  our  own,  unless  it  exceed  our  debts. 
And,  morally  speaking,  we,  at  the  moment  of  our 
marriage,  contract  a  debt  with  the  naturally  to  be  ex- 
pected fruit  of  it ;  and,  therefore  (reserving  farther 
remarks  upon  this  subject  till  I  come  to  speak  of  the 
education  of  children),  the  scale  of  expense  should, 
at  the  beginning,  be  as  low  as  that  of  which  a  due 
attention  to  rank  in  life  will  admit. 

151.  The  great  danger  of  all  is,  beginning  with 


'M  ',  I 


11! 


^ 


Letter 

J  ques- 
[ear  to 
^  and 


luct  will 
s;  and  a 
lich  you 
le  a^ood 
made,  by 
,  or  a  pro- 
3r.  All  in 
and  cdu- 
k  of  lier 


f.'^ 


IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


123 


servants^  or  a  servant.  "UTiere  there  are  riches,  or 
where  the  business  is  so  great  as  to  demand  help  in 
the  carrying  on  of  the  affairs  of  a  house,  one  or  more 
female  servants  must  be  kept ;  but,  where  the  work 
of  a  house  can  be  done  by  one  pair  of  hands,  why 
should  there  be  two ;  especially  as  you  cannot  have 
the  hands  without  having  the  mouthy  and,  which  is 
frequently  not  less  costly,  inconvenient  and  inju- 
rious, the  tongue?  When  children  come,  there  must, 
at  times,  be  some  foreign  aid ;  but,  until  then,  what 
need  can  the  wife  of  a  young  tradesman,  or  even 
farmer  (unless  the  family  be  great)  have  of  a  servant? 
The  wife  is  young,  and  why  is  she  not  to  work  as 
well  as  the  husband  ?  What  justice  is  there  in  want- 
ing you  to  keep  two  women  instead  of  one  ?  You 
have  not  married  them  both  in  form ;  but,iif  they  be 
inseparable,  you  have  married  them  in  substance ; 
and  if  you  are  free  from  the  crime  of  bigamy,  you 
have  the  far  most  burthensome  part  of  its  conse- 
quences. 

155.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  unpopularity  of  this 
doctrine ;  well  aware  of  its  hostility  to  prevalent 
habits ;  well  aware  that  almost  every  tradesman  and 
every  farmer,  though  with  scarcely  a  shilling  to  call 
his  own ;  and  that  every  clerk,  and  every  such  per- 
son, begins  by  keeping  a  servant,  and  that  the  latter 
is  generally  provided  before  the  wife  be  installed ;  I 
am  well  aware  of  all  this;  but  knowing,  from  long 
and  attentive  observation,  that  it  is  the  great  bane  of 
the  marriage  life ;  the  great  cause  of  that  penury, 
and  of  those  numerous  and  tormenting  embarrass- 
ments, amidst  which  conjugal  felicity  can  seldom 
long  be  kept  alive,  I  give  the  advice,  and  state  the 
reasons  on  which  it  was  founded. 

156.  In  London,  or  near  it,  a  maid  servant  cannot 
be  kept  at  an  expense  so  low  as  that  of  thirty  pounds 
a  year  ;  for,  besides  her  wages,  board  and  lodging, 
there  must  be  a  Jire  solely  for  her ;  or  she  must  sit 
with  the  husband  and  wife,  hear  every  word  that 
passes  be- ween  them,  and  between  them  and  their 
friends  j  which  will  of  course,  greatly  add  to  the 


1    '"•• 


0- 


1 

I 

J     ■  i , 

i 

.  ^  1  ■  : 

iili 


.1 

I  1  ,:l 


m' 


■'(■ ' 


W  ■"'>■' 


i-r 
"U 


^r  11 


t  !     ,:n' : 


11:  ■.r-- 


r.:,;:ill 


:>  i   I, 


|.;  Ill 

Ill: 


124 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


pleasures  of  their  fireside !  To  keep  her  tongue  still 
would  be  impossible,  and,  indeed,  unreasonable ;  and 
if,  as  may  frequently  happen,  she  be  prettier  than 
the  wife,  she  will  know  how  to  give  the  suitable  in- 
terpretation to  the  looks  which,  to  a  next  to  a  cer- 
tainty, she  will  occasionally  get  from  him,  who,  as 
it  were  in  mockery,  she  calls  by  the  name  of  "  wo,9- 
<er."  This  is  almost  downright  bigamy ;  but  this 
can  never  do  ;  and,  therefore,  she  must  have  a  Jii-e 
to  herself.  Besides  the  blaze  of  coals,  however,  there 
is  another  sort  oi  fiame  that  she  will  inevitably  co- 
vet. She  will  by  no  means  be  sparing  of  the  coals ; 
but,  well  fed  and  well  lodged,  as  she  will  be,  what- 
ever you  may  be,  she  will  naturally  sigh  for  the  fire 
of  love,  for  which  she  carries  in  her  bosom  a  match 
always  ready  prepared.  In  plain  language,  you  have 
a  man  to  keep,  a  part,  at  least,  of  every  week  ;  and 
the  leg  of  lamb,  which  might  have  lasted  you  and 
your  wife  for  three  days,  will,  by  this  gentleman's 
sighs,  be  borne  away  in  one.  Shut  the  door  against 
this  intruder ;  out  she  goes  herself:  and,  if  she  go 
empty-handed,  she  is  no  true  Christian,  or,  at  least, 
will  not  be  looked  upon  as  such  by  the  charitable 
friend  at  whose  house  she  meets  the  longing  soul, 
dying  partly  with  love  and  partly  with  hunger. 

157.  The  cost,  altogether,  is  nearer  fifty  pounds  a 
year  than  thirty.  How  many  thousands  of  trades- 
men and  clerks,  and  the  like,  who  might  have  pass- 
ed through  life  without  a  single  embarrassment,  have 
lived  in  continual  trouble  and  fear,  and  found  a  pre- 
mature grave,  from  this  very  cause,  and  this  cause 
alone  I  When  I,  on  my  return  from  America,  in 
1800,  lived  a  short  time  in  Saint  James's  Street,  fol- 
lowing my  habit  of  early  rising,  I  used  to  see  the 
servant  maids,  at  almost  every  house,  dispensing 
charity  at  the  expense  of  their  masters,  long  before 
they,  good  men,  opened  their  eyes,  who  thus  did 
deeds  of  benevolence,  not  on^j  without  boasting  of 
them,  but  without  knowing  of  them.  Meat,  bread, 
cheese,  butter,  coals,  candles ;  all  came  with  equal 
freedom  from  these  liberal  hands.    I  have  observed 


Xciter 

lie  still 
le  J  and 
3r  than 
able  in- 

0  a  cer- 
who,  as 
f  "  mas- 
but  this 
ire  a  Jive 
er,  there 
lably  co- 
le coals ; 
Cj  what- 
r  the  fire 

1  a  match 
you  have 
eek ;  and 
L  you  and 
ntleman's 
ov  against 

if  she  go 
•,  at  least, 
charitable 
ging  soul, 
nger. 
pounds  a 
of  trades- 
lave  pass- 
nent,have 
und  a  pre- 
this  cause 
merica,  in 
Street,  fol- 
to  see  the 
dispensing 
ong  before 
10  thus  did 
boasting  of 
[eat,  bread, 
with  equal 
^e  observed 


iv.J 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


125 


the  same,  in  my  early  walks  and  rides,  in  every  part 
of  this  great  place  and  its  environs.  Wliere  there 
is  one  servant  it  is  worse  than  where  there  are  two  or 
more ;  for,  happily  for  their  employers,  they  do  not 
always  agrco.  So  that  the  oppression  is  most  heavy 
on  those  who  are  the  least  able  to  bear  it :  and  par- 
ticularly on  clerics,  and  such  like  people,  whose  wives 
seem  to  think,  that,  because  the  husband's  work  is 
of  a  genteel  description,  they  ought  to  live  the  life 
of  ladies.  Poor  fellows !  their  work  is  not  hard  and 
rough,  to  be  sure ;  but,  it  is  work,  and  work  for  many 
hours  too,  and  painful  enough ;  and  as  to  their  in- 
come, it  scarcely  exceeds,  on  an  average,  the  double, 
at  any  rate,  of  that  of  a  journeyman  carpenter, 
bricklayer,  or  tailor.  . 

158.  Besides,  the  man  and  wife  will  live  on  chea- 
per diet  and  drink  than  a  servant  will  live.  Thou- 
sands, who  would  never  have  had  beer  in  their  house, 
have  it  for  the  servant,  who  will  not  live  without  it. 
However  frugal  your  wife,  her  frugality  is  of  little 
use,  if  she  have  one  of  these  inmates  to  provide  for. 
Many  a  hundred  thousand  times  has  it  happened 
that  the  butcher  and  the  butter-man  have  been  ap- 
plied to  solely  because  there  was  a  servant  to  satisfy. 
You  cannot,  with  this  clog  everlastingly  attached  to 
you,  be  frugal,  if  you  would :  you  can  save  nothing 
against  the  days  of  expense,  which  are,  however, 
pretty  sure  to  come.  And  why  should  you  bring 
into  your  house  a  trouble  like  this ;  an  absolute 
annoyance ;  a  something  for  your  wife  to  watch,  to 
be  a  constraint  upon  her,  to  thwart  her  in  her  best 
intentions,  to  make  her  uneasy,  and  to  sour  her 
temper  ?  Why  should  you  do  this  foolish  thing  ? 
Merely  to  comply  with  corrupt  fashion ;  merely  from 
false  shame,  and  false  and  contemptible  pride  ?  If  a 
young  man  were,  on  his  marriage,  to  find  any  difld- 
culty  in  setting  this  ruinous  fashion  at  defiance,  a 
very  good  way  would  be  to  count  down  to  his  wife, 
at  the  end  of  evv^ry  week,  the  amount  of  the  expense 
of  a  servant  for  that  week,  and  request  her  to  depo- 
sit it  in  her  drawer.    In  a  short  time  she  would  find 

11* 


'      Ih,; 


•      I 


'  ,m 


1        '^ 


•'     ■■'-} 


•A 


w 


i    :  f 


^W 


;,  ,    .;i  '   il] 


■t:m 


i  ■  (1 


l1l' 


I! 


1*26 


cobbett'3  advice 


[Letter 


the  sura  so  large,  that  she  would  be  frightened  at  the 
thoughts  of  a  servant ;  and  would  never  dream  of 
one  again,  except  in  case  of  absolute  necessity,  and 
then  for  as  short  a  time  as  possible. 

159.  But  the  wife  may  not  be  able  to  do  all  the 
work  to  be  done  in  the  house.  Not  able !  A  young 
woman  not  able  to  cook  and  wash,  and  mend  and 
make,  and  clean  the  house  and  make  the  bed  for  one 
young  man  and  herself,  and  that  young  man  her 
husband  too,  who  is  quite  willing  (if  he  be  worth  a 
straw)  to  put  up  with  cold  dinner,  or  with  a  crust ; 
to  get  up  and  light  her  fire ;  to  do  any  thing  that  the 
mind  can  suggest  to  spare  her  labour,  and  to  con- 
duce to  her  convenience  !  Not  able  to  do  this  ?  Then, 
if  she  brought  no  fortune,  and  he  had  none,  she 
ought  not  to  have  been  able  to  marry :  and,  let  me 
tell  you,  young  man,  a  small  fortune  would  not  put 
a  servant-keeping  wife  upon  an  equality  with  one 
who  required  no  such  inmate. 

160.  If,  indeed,  the  work  of  a  house  were  harder 
than  a  young  woman  could  perform  without  pain, 
or  great  fatigue ;  if  it  had  a  tendency  to  impair  her 
health  or  deface  her  beauty ;  then  you  might  hesitate: 
but,  it  is  not  too  hard,  and  it  tends  to  preserve  health, 
to  keep  the  spirits  buoyant,  and,  of  course,  to  pre- 
serve beauty.  You  often  hear  girls,  while  scrubbing 
or  washing,  singing  till  they  are  out  of  breath ;  but 
never  while  they  are  at  what  they  call  working  at 
the  needle.  The  American  wives  are  most  exempla- 
ry in  this  respect.  They  have  none  of  that  false 
pride,  which  prevents  thousands  in  England  from 
doing  that  which  interest,  reason,  and  even  their  own 
inclination  would  prompt  them  to  do.  They  work, 
not  from  necessity ;  not  from  compulsion  of  any 
sort ;  for  their  husbands  are  the  most  indulgent  in 
the  whole  world.  In  the  towns  they  go  to  the  mar- 
ket, and  cheerfully  carry  home  the  result :  in  the 
country,  they  not  only  do  the  work  in  the  house, 
but  extend  their  labours  to  the  garden,  plant  and 
weed  and  hoe,  and  gather  and  preserve  the  fruits  and 
the  herbs  -,  and  this,  too,  in  a  climate  far  from  being 


dun 
and 


•* 


IV.J 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


127 


!     1      I  1., 


SO  favourable  to  labour  as  that  of  England  ;  and  they 
are  amply  repaid  for  these  by  those  gratifications 
which  their  excellent  economy  enable  ^heir  hus- 
bands to  bestow  upon  them,  and  which  it  is  their 
universal  habit  to  do  with  a  hberal  hand. 

161.  But  did  I  practise  what  I  am  here  preaching? 
Aye,  and  to  the  full  extent.  Till  I  had  a  second  child, 
no  servant  ever  entered  my  house,  though  well  able 
to  keep  one ;  and  never,  in  my  whole  life,  did  I  live 
in  a  house  so  clean,  in  such  trim  order,  and  never 
have  I  eaten  or  drunk,  or  slept  or  dressed,  in  a  man- 
ner so  perfectly  to  my  fancy,  as  I  did  then.  I  had  a 
great  deal  of  business  to  attend  to,  that  took  me  a 
great  part  of  the  day  from  home ;  but,  whenever  I 
could  spare  a  minute  from  business,  the  child  was  in 
my  arms ;  I  rendered  the  mother's  labour  as  light  as 
I  could ;  any  bit  of  food  satisfied  me ;  when  watch- 
ing was  necessary,  we  shared  it  between  us ;  and 
that  famous  Grammar  for  teaching  French  people 
English,  which  has  been  for  thirty  years,  and  still  is, 
the  great  work  of  this  kind,  throughout  all  America, 
and  in  every  nation  in  Europe,  was  written  by  me, 
in  hours  not  employed  in  business,  and,  in  great  part, 
during  my  share  of  the  night-watchings  over  a  sick, 
and  then  only  child,  who,  after  lingering  many 
months,  died  in  my  arms. 

162.  This  was  the  way  that  we  went  on :  this  was 
the  way  that  we  began  the  married  life ;  and  surely, 
that  which  we  did  with  pleasure  no  young  couple, 
unendowed  with  fortune,  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  do. 
But  she  may  be  ill ;  the  time  may  be  near  at  hand, 
or  may  have  actually  arrived,  when  she  must  en- 
counter that  particular  pain  and  danger  of  which 
you  Jiave  been  the  happy  came !  Oh  !  that  is  quite 
another  matter  !  And  if  you  new  exceed  in  care,  in 
watchings  over  her,  in  tender  attention  to  all  her 
wishes,  in  anxious  efforts  to  quiet  her  fears ;  if  you 
exceed  in  pains  and  expense  to  procure  her  relief 
and  secure  her  life;  if  you,  in  any  of  these,  exceed 
that  which  I  would  recommend,  you  must  be  ro- 
mantic mdeed !  She  deserves  them  all,  and  more  than 


'  I 


K 

-.    '^ 
1 


Kjt 


!    ■ 


I   I 


* 


■'  a  'I  !     I! 


|-:M 


)';' 


\?\.  ■  fcii  i 


I  I 


■Hi 


Mi\-m 


• '  ''f 


II! 


ii 


iiiliil 


wBW 


128 


COBBETT  3  ADVICE 


LLctter 


all,  ten  thousand  times  told.  And  now  it  is  that  you 
feel  the  blessing  conferred  by  her  economy.  That 
heap  of  money,  wliich  might  have  been  squandered 
on,  or  by,  or  in  consequence  of,  an  useless  servant, 
you  now  have  in  hand  wherewith  to  procure  an 
abundance  of  that  skill  and  that  attendance  of  which 
she  stands  in  absolute  need ;  and  she,  when  restored 
lo  you  in  smiling  health,  has  the  just  pride  to  reflect, 
that  she  may  have  owed  her  life  and  your  happiness 
to  the  effects  of  her  industry. 

163.  It  is  tlie  beginning  that  is  every  thing  in  this 
important  case ;  and  you  will  have,  perhaps,  much 
to  do  to  convince  her,  not  that  what  you  recommend 
is  advantageous;  not  that  it  is  right ;  but  to  convince 
her  that  she  can  do  it  without  sinking  beloAV  the  sta- 
tion that  she  ought  to  maintain.  She  would  cheer- 
fully do  it;  but  there  are  her  vext-cloor  neighbours^ 
who  do  not  do  it,  though,  in  all  other  respects,  on  a 
parwithher.  It  is  not  laziness,  but  pernicious  fashion, 
that  you  will  have  to  combat.  But  the  truth  is,  that 
there  ought  to  be  no  combat  at  all ;  this  important 
matter  ought  to  be  settled  and  fully  agreed  on  before- 
hand. If  she  really  love  you,  and  have  common 
sense,  she  will  not  hesitate  a  moment;  and  if  she  be 
deficient  in  either  of  these  respects ;  and  if  you  be  so 
mad  in  love  as  to  be  unable  to  exist  without  her,  it  is 
better  to  cease  to  exist  at  once,  than  to  become  the 
toiling  and  embarrassed  slave  of  a  wasting  and  pil- 
laging servant. 

164.  The  next  thing  to  be  attended  to  is,  your  de- 
meanor towards  a  young  wife.  As  to  oldish  ones, 
or  widows,  time  and  other  things  have,  in  most  cases, 
blunted  their  feelings,  and  rendered  harsh  or  stern  de- 
meanor in  the  husband  a  matter  not  of  heart-break- 
ing consequence.  But  with  a  young  and  inex- 
perienced one,  the  case  is  very  different ;  and  you 
should  bear  in  mind,  that  the  first  frown  that  she  re- 
ceives from  you  is  a  dagger  to  her  heart.  Nature  has 
so  ordered  it,  that  men  shall  become  less  ardent  in 
their  passion  after  the  wedding  day ;  and  that  women 
shall  npt.    Their  ardour  increases  rather  than  the 


i«« 


[^Letter 

liat  you 
.  That 
andered 
servant, 
3ure  an 
»f  which 
restored 
0  reflect, 
appincss 

ig  m  this 
)s,  much 
oinmend 
convince 
V  the  sta- 
id checr- 
ghbotirSj 
3Cts,  on  a 
s  fashion, 
th  is,  that 
niportant 
3n  before- 
common 
[  if  she  be 
you  be  so 
t  her,  it  is 
jcome  the 
g  and  pil- 

,  your  lie- 

ilish  ones, 

lost  cases, 

r  stern  de- 

art-break- 

md  inex- 

and  you 

lat  she  re- 

lature  has 

ardent  in 

at  women 

than  the 


iv.l 


TO  A  HUSnAND. 


contrary ;  and  tliey  are  surprisingly  viiuck-8i<  fed 
and  inquisitive  on  this  score.  When  the  child  comes, 
it  divides  this  ardour  with  the  father ;  but  until  then 
you  have  it  all ;  and  if  you  have  a  mind  to  be  happy, 
repay  it  with  all  your  soul.  Let  M'hat  may  happen 
to  put  you  out  of  humour  with  others,  let  nothing 
put  you  out  of  humour  with  her.  Let  your  words 
and  looks  and  manners  be  just  what  they  were  be- 
fore you  called  her  wife. 

165.  But  now,  and  throughout  your  life,  show 
your  affection  for  her,  and  your  admiration  of  her, 
not  in  nonsensical  compliment;  not  in  picking  up 
her  handkerchief,  or  her  glove,  or  in  carrying  her 
fan  or  parasol ;  not,  if  you  have  the  means,  in  hang- 
ing trinkets  and  baubles  upon  her ;  not  in  making 
yourself  a  fool  by  winking  at,  and  seeming  pleased 
at,  her  foibles,  or  follies,  or  faults ;  but  show  them 
by  acts  of  real  goodness  towards  her ;  prove  by  un- 
equivocal deeds  the  high  value  that  you  set  on  her 
health  and  life  and  peace  of  mind ;  let  your  praise 
of  her  go  to  the  full  extent  of  her  deserts,  but  let  it 
be  consistent  with  truth  and  with  sense,  and  such  as 
to  convince  her  of  your  sincerity.  He  who  is  the 
flatterer  of  his  wife  only  prepares  her  ears  for  the 
hyperbolical  stuff  of  others.  The  kindest  appella- 
tion that  her  Christian  name  affords  is  the  best  you 
can  use,  especially  before  faces.  An  everlasting 
"  my  dear^^  is  but  a  sorry  compensation  for  a  want 
of  that  sort  of  love  that  makes  the  husband  cheer- 
fully toil  by  day,  break  his  rest  by  night,  endure  all 
sorts  of  hardships,  if  the  life  or  health  of  his  wife  de- 
mand it.  Let  your  deeds,  and  not  your  words,  carry 
to  her  heart  a  daily  and  hourly  confirmation  of  the 
fact,  that  you  value  her  health  and  life  and  happiness 
beyond  all  other  things  in  the  world ;  and  let  this  be 
manifest  to  her,  particularly  at  those  times  when  life 
is  always  more  or  less  in  danger. 

166.  I  began  my  young  marriage  days  in  and  near 
Philadelphia.  At  one  of  those  times  to  which  I 
have  just  alluded,  in  the  middle  of  the  burning  hot 
month  of  July,  I  was  greatly  afraid  of  fatal  conse- 


i' 


■ ) 


}\ 


130 


COBBETT'a   ADVICE 


[Letter 


:,   I 


qucnccs  to  my  wife  for  want  of  sleep,  she  not  having, 
after  the  great  danger  was  over,  had  any  sleop  for 
more  than  forty-eigiit  hours.  Ail  great  cities,  in  hot 
countries,  are,  I  believe,  full  of  dogs ;  and  they,  in 
the  very  hot  weather,  keep  up,  during  the  night,  a 
horrible  barking  and  fighting  and  howling.  Upon 
the  particular  occasion  to  which  I  am  adverting,  they 
made  a  noise  so  terrible  and  so  unremitted,  tliat  it 
was  next  to  impossible  that  even  a  person  in  full 
health  and  free  from  pain  should  obtain  a  minute's 
sleep.  I  was,  about  nine  in  the  evening,  sitting  by 
the  bed :  "  I  do  think,"  said  she,  "  that  I  could  go  to 
sleep  noWj  if  it  were  not^br  Uie  dogs.^^  Down  stairs 
I  went,  and  out  I  sallied,  in  my  shirt  and  trovvscrs, 
and  without  shoes  and  stockings  ;  and,  going  to  a 
heap  of  stones  lying  beside  the  road,  set  to  work 
upon  the  dogs,  going  backward  and  forward,  and 
keeping  them  at  two  or  three  hundred  yards'  dis- 
tance from  the  house.  I  walked  thus  the  whole  night, 
barefooted,  lest  the  noise  of  my  shoes  might  possibly 
reach  her  ears ;  and  I  remember  that  the  bricks  of 
the  causeway  were,  even  in  the  night,  so  hot  as  to 
be  disagreeable  to  my  feet.  My  exertions  produced 
the  desired  effect:  a  sleep  of  several  hours  was  the 
consequence ;  and,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
oflf  went  I  to  a  day's  business,  which  was  to  end  at 
six  in  the  evening. 

107.  Women  are  all  patriots  of  the  soil ;  and  when 
her  neighbours  used  to  ask  my  wife  whether  all  Eng- 
lish husliands  were  like  hers,  she  boldly  answered  in 
the  affirmative.  I  had  business  to  occupy  the  whole 
of  my  time,  Sundays  and  week-days,  except  sleep- 
ing hours  J  but  I  used  to  make  time  to  assist  her  in 
the  taking  care  of  her  baby,  and  in  all  sorts  of  things: 
get  up,  light  her  fire,  boil  her  tea-kettle,  carry  her  up 
warm  water  in  cold  weather,  take  the  child  while 
she  dressed  herself  and  got  the  breakfast  ready,  then 
breakfast,  get  her  in  water  and  wood  for  the  day, 
then  dress  myself  neatly,  and  sally  forth  to  my  busi- 
ness. The  moment  that  was  over  I  used  to  hasten 
back  to  her  again  j  and  I  no  more  thought  of  spend- 


IV.]; 

Ing  a  n 

pelted 
and  go 
trenien 
are  in 
much  a 
feeling 
she  \A  ai 
in  those 
that  m^ 
but,  be 
I  used 
momeni 
Scores 
errand, 
men,  wl 
ccedingl 
was  mal 
say,  wit' 
jours  J  M 
168.1 
seldom, 
with  her 
course  o 
ing  goni( 
I  never 
been  hw 
in  the  nc 
not  walk 
bate  a  lU 
husband, 
lliat  whi 
ed  Willi 
to  prove 
and  for  w 
those  oc( 
cessity  fc 
ry  thing 
some  En 
Isle  of  E 
riunsj  tin 


I    I 


Letter 


[iving, 
Rp  for 
ill  hot 
ley,  in 
ight,  a 

Upon 
?,  tliey 
that  it 
in  full 
inute's 
ing  by 
d  go  to 
I  stairs 
)vvscrs, 
g  to  a 
J  work 
I'll,  and 
ds'  dis- 
e  iiiglit, 
(ossibly 
•icks  of 
)t  as  to 
oduced 
vas  the 
orning, 

end  at 


IV.] 


TO  A   HUSBilND. 


131 


ing  a  moment  away  from  hei\  unless  business  com- 
pelled me,  than  I  thought  of  quitting  the  country 
and  going  to  sea.  The  thunder  and  lightning  are 
tremendous  in  America,  compared  with  what  they 
are  in  England,  My  wife  was,  at  one  time,  very 
much  afraid  of  thunder  and  lightning  \  and  as  is  the 
feeling  of  all  such  women,  and,  indeed,  all  men  too, 
she  ^^  anted  company,  and  particularly  her  husband, 
in  those  times  of  danger.  I  knew  well,  of  course, 
tliat  my  presence  would  not  diminish  the  danger ; 
but,  be  I  at  what  I  might,  if  within  reach  of  home, 
I  used  to  quit  my  business  and  hasten  to  her,  the 
moment  I  perceived  a  thunder  storm  approaching. 
Scores  of  miles  have  I,  first  and  last,  run  on  this 
errand,  in  the  streets  of  Philadelphia !  The  French- 
men, who  were  my  scholars,  used  to  laugh  at  me  ex- 
ceedingly on  this  account;  and  sometimes,  when  I 
was  making  an  appointment  with  them,  they  would 
say,  with  a  smile  and  a  bow,  "  Sauve  la  tonnere  tou- 


jour s^ 


Mmsieur  Cobbett.^^ 


168. 1  never  dangled  about  at  the  heels  of  my  wife ; 
scklom,  very  seldom,  ever  walked  out,  as  it  is  called, 
with  her ;  I  never  "  went  a  walking^''  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  life ;  never  went  to  walk  without  hav- 
nig  some  object  in  view  other  than  the  walk  ;  and,  as 
I  never  could  walk  at  a  slow  pace,  it  would  have 
been  hard  icork  for  her  to  keep  up  with  me ;  so  that, 
in  the  nearly  ibrty  years  of  our  married  life,  we  have 
not  walked  out  together,  perhaps,  twenty  times.  I 
hate  a  dangler,  who  is  more  like  a  footman  than  a 
husband.  It  is  very  cheap  to  bo  kind  in  trijles  ;  but 
that  whicli  rivets  the  iiilections  is  not  to  be  purchas- 
ed with  money.  The  great  thing  of  all,  however,  is 
to  prove  your  anxiety  at  those  times  of  peril  to  her, 
and  for  which  times  you,  nevertheless,  wish.  Upon 
those  occasions  I  was  never  from  home,  be  the  ne- 
cessity for  it  ever  so  great :  it  was  my  rule,  that  eve- 
ry thing  must  give  way  to  that.  In  the  year  18(19, 
some  English  local  militiamen  wcvc  Jlogged,  in  the 
Isle  of  Ely,  in  England,  under  a  guard  cf  Hanove- 
rians, then  stationed  in  England.    I,  reading  an  ac- 


•1^ 


r-!M 


,-l  ,: 

■•  » 

ji 


V 


I  • 


i;< 


«4 


^1 


ifil    I 


It  .: 


132 


cobbett's  advice 


LLetter 


count  of  this  in  a  London  newspaper,  called  the 
CouRiERj  expressed  my  indignation  at  it  in  such 
terms  as  it  became  an  Englishman  to  do.  The  At- 
torney General,  Gibbs,  was  set  on  upon  me ;  he  ha- 
rassed me  for  nearly  a  year,  then  brought  me  to 
trial,  and  I  was,  by  EUenborough,  Grose,  Le  Blanc, 
and  Bailey,  sentenced  to  two  year's^  imprisonment  in 
Newgate,  to  pay  a  fine  to  the  kin^  of  a  thousand 
pounds,  and  to  be  held  in  heavy  bailfor  seven  years 
after  the  expiration  of  the  imprisonment !  Every 
one  regarded  it  as  a  sentence  of  death.  I  lived  in 
the  country  at  the  time,  seventy  miles  from  London ; 
I  had  a  farm  on  my  hands ;  I  had  a  family  of  small 
children,  amongst  whom  I  had  constantly  lived ;  f 
had  a  most  anxious  and  devoted  wife,  who  was,  too, 
in  that  state,  which  rendered  the  separation  more 
painful  ten-fold.  I  was  put  into  a  place  amongst  fe- 
lons, from  which  I  had  to  rescue  myself  at  the  price 
of  twelve  guineas  a  week  for  the  whole  of  the  two 
years.  The  kin^,  poor  man !  was,  at  the  close  of 
my  imprisonment,  not  in  a  condition  to  receive  the 
thousand  pounds;  but  his  son,  the  present  king, 
punctually  received  it  "  in  his  name  and  behalf  •'^ 
and  he  keeps  it  still. 

169.  The  sentence,  thougli  it  proved  not  to  be  one 
of  death,  was,  in  effect,  one  of  ruin,  as  far  as  then- 
possessed  property  went.  But  this  really  appeared 
as  nothing,  compared  with  the  circumstance,  that  I 
must  now  have  a  child  horn  in  a  felons''  jail,  or  be 
absent  from  the  scene  at  the  time  of  the  birth.  My 
wife,  who  had  come  to  see  me  for  the  last  time  pre- 
vitnis  to  her  lying-in,  perceiving  my  deep  dejection 
at  the  approach  of  her  departure  for  Botley,  resolv- 
ed not  to  go ;  and  actually  went  and  took  a  lodging 
as  near  to  Newgate  as  she  could  find  one,  in  order 
that  the  communication  between  us  might  be  as 
speedy  as  possible ;  and  in  order  that  I  might  see 
the  doctor,  and  receive  assurances  from  him  relative 
to  her  state.  The  nearest  lodging  that  she  could  find 
was  in  Skinner-street,  at  the  corner  of  a  street  lead- 
ing to  Smithfield.    So  that  there  she  was,  amidst  the 


was 


and 

ling 

baub 

about 

pleas 

dears 

thep 

thee 


[Letter 

died  the 
in  such 
The  At- 
! ;  he  ha- 
lt me  to 
jC  Blanc, 
nmmt  in 
thousand 
len  years 
\    Every 
I  lived  in 
London ; 
of  small 
'  lived;  I 
was,  too, 
ion  more 
nongst/e- 
i  the  price 
)f  the  two 
e  close  of 
eceive  the 
sent  king, 
I  behalf;'' 


t  to  be  one 
ir  as  then- 
appeared 
nee,  that  I 
a?7,  or  be 
)lrth.  My 
t  time  pre- 
dejection 
ey,  resolv- 
:  a  lodging 
e,  in  order 
ight  be  as 
might  see 
im  relative 
3  could  find 
street  lead- 
amidst  the 


iv.J 


TO   A    HUSBAND. 


133 


I . ' 


incessant  rattle  of  coaches  and  butchers'  carts,  and 
the  noise  of  cattle,  dogs,  and  bawling  men ;  instead 
of  being  in  a  quiet  and  commodious  country-house, 
with  neighbours  and  servants  and  every  thing  ne- 
cessary about  her.  Yet,  so  great  is  the  power  of  the 
mind  in  such  cases,  she,  though  the  circumstances 
proved  uncommonly  perilous,  and  were  attended 
with  the  loss  of  the  child,  bore  her  sufferings  with 
the  greatest  composure,  because,  at  any  minute  she 
could  send  a  message  to,  and  hear  from,  itie.  If  she 
had  gone  to  Botley,  leaving  me  in  that  state  of  anxi- 
ety in  which  she  saw  me,  I  am  satisfied  that  she 
would  have  died ;  and  that  event  taking  place  at  such 
a  distance  from  me,  how  was  I  to  contemplate  her 
corpse,  surrounded  by  her  distracted  children,  and  to 
have  escaped  death,  or  madness,  myself?  If  such 
was  not  the  effect  of  this  merciless  act  of  the  go- 
vernment towards  me,  that  amiable  body -may  be 
well  assured  that  I  have  taken  and  recorded  the  will 
for  the  deed,  and  that  as  such  it  will  live  in  my  me- 
mory as  long  as  that  memory  shall  last. 

170.  I  make  no  apology  for  this  account  of  my 
own  conduct,  because  example  is  better  than  pre- 
cept, and  because  I  believe  that  my  example  may 
have  weight  with  many  thousands,  as  it  has  had  in 
respect  to  early  rising,  abstinence,  sobriety,  industry, 
and  mercy  towards  the  poor.  It  is  not,  then,  dang- 
ling about  after  a  wife ;  it  is  not  the  loading  her  with 
baubles  and  trinkets ;  it  is  not  the  jaunting  of  her 
about  from  show  to  show,  and  from  what  is  called 
pleasure  to  pleasure.  It  is  none  of  these  that  en- 
dears you  to  her :  it  is  the  adherence  to  that  part  of 
the  promise  you  have  made  her :  "  With  my  body  I 
thee  worship  ;"  that  is  to  say,  respect  and  honour  by 
personal  attention  and  acts  of  affection.  And  re- 
member, that  the  greatest  possible  proof  that  you 
can  give  of  real  and  solid  affection  is  to  give  her 
your  time,  when  not  wanted  hi  matters  of  business ; 
when  not  wanted  for  the  discharge  of  some  duty, 
either  towards  the  public  or  towards  private  persons. 
Amongst  duties  of  this  sort,  we  must,  of  course,  in 

13 


:;  I 


a 


I    i-^i 


^vi' 


V^ 


^\\ 


!  i 


'  H 


''1;    •  M, 


134 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


m 


U.  ^M 


I    ! 


II! 


§ 


some  ranks  and  circumstances  of  lifb,  include  the 
intercourse  amongst  friends  and  neighbours,  which 
may  frequently  and  reasonably  call  the  husband 
from  his  home :  but  what  are  we  to  think  of  the 
husband  who  is  in  the  habit  of  leaving  his  own  fire- 
side, after  the  business  of  the  day  is  over,  and  seek- 
ing promiscuous  companions  in  the  ale  or  the  coffee 
house  ?  I  am  told  that,  in  France,  it  is  rare  to  meet 
with  a  husband  who  does  not  spend  every  evening 
of  his  life  in  what  is  called  a  cciffe  ;  that  is  to  say,  a 
place  for  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  gossipping, 
drinking  and  gaming.  And  it  is  with  great  sorrow 
that  I  acknowledge  that  many  English  husbands  in- 
dulge too  much  in  a  similar  habit.  Drinking  clubs, 
smoking  clubs,  singing  clubs,  clubs  of  odd-fellows, 
whist  clubs,  sotting  clubs:  these  are  inexcusable, 
they  are  censurable,  they  are  at  once  foolish  and 
wicked,  even  in  single  men;  what  must  they  be, 
then,  in  husbands  ;  and  how  are  they  to  answer,  not 
only  to  their  wives,  but  to  their  children,  for  this 
profligate  abandonment  of  their  homes;  this  breach 
of  their  solemn  vow  made  to  the  former,  this  evil 
example  to  the  latter  1 

171.  Innumerable  are  the  miseries  that  spring 
from  this  cause.  The  expense  is,  in  the  first  place, 
very  considerable.  I  much  question  whether, 
amongst  tradesmen,  a  shilling  a  night  pays  the  ave- 
rage score ;  and  that,  too,  for  that  which  is  really 
worth  nothing  at  all,  and  cannot,  even  by  possibility, 
be  attended  with  any  one  single  advantage,  however 
small.  Fifteen  pounds  a  year  thus  thrown  away, 
would  amount,  in  the  course  of  a  tradesman's  life, 
to  a  decent  fortune  for  a  child.  Then  there  is  the 
Injury  to  health  from  these  night  adventures  ;  there 
are  the  quarrels  ;  there  is  the  vicious  habit  of  loose 
and  filthy  talk ;  there  are  the  slanders  and  the  back- 
bitings ;  there  are  the  admiration  of  contemptible 
wit,  and  there  the  scoflings  at  all  that  is  sober  and 
serious. 

172.  And  does  the  husband  who  thus  abandons 
his  wife  and  children  imagine  that  she  will  not,  in 


''  ,i! 


[Letter 

lude  the 
s,  which 
husband 
k  of  the 
3WI1  fire- 
md  seek- 
he  coffee 
B  to  meet 
^  evening 
to  say,  a 
>ssipping, 
it  sorrow 
jbnnds  in- 
'm%  clubSj 
d-fellows, 
excusable, 
olish  and 
t  they  be, 
iswer,  not 
m,  for  this 
bis  breach 
,  this  evil 

lat  syjring 
irst  place, 

whether, 
rs  the  ave- 

is  really 
)Ossibility, 

however 
wn  away, 
mail's  life, 
lere  is  the 
res ;  there 
it  of  loose 
I  the  back- 
iitemptible 

sober  and 

abandons 
^iU  not,  ill 


iv.J 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


135 


n    !'•■ 


some  degree  at  least,  follow  his  example  ?  If  he  do, 
he  is  very  much  deceived.  If  she  imitate  him  even 
in  drinking,  he  has  no  great  reason  to  complain;  and 
then  the  cost  may  be  two  shillings  the  night  instead 
of  one,  equal  in  amount  to  the  cost  of  all  the  bread 
wanted  in  the  family,  while  the  baker's  bill  is,  per- 
haps, unpaid.  Here  are  the  slander ings,  too,  going 
on  at  home ;  for,  while  the  husbands  are  assembled, 
it  would  be  hard  if  the  wives  were  not  to  do  the 
same ;  and  the  very  least  that  is  to  be  expected  is, 
that  the  tea-pot  should  keep  pace  with  the  porter-pot 
or  grog-glass.  Hence  crowds  of  female  acquaintan- 
ces and  intruders,  and  all  the  consequent  and  inevi- 
table squabbles  which  form  no  small  part  of  the 
torment  of  the  life  of  man. 

173.  If  you  have  servants,  they  know  to  a  mo- 
ment the  time  of  your  absence ;  and  they  regulate 
their  proceedings  accordingly.  "  Like  master  like 
man,"  is  an  old  and  true  proverb ;  and  it  is  natural, 
if  not  just,  that  it  should  be  thus ;  for  it  would  be 
unjust  if  the  careless  and  neglectful  sot  were  served  as 
faithfully  as  the  vigilant,  attentive  and  sober  man. 
Late  hours,  cards  and  dice,  are  amongst  the  conse- 
quences of  the  master's  absence ;  and  why  not,  see- 
ing that  he  is  setting  the  example  ?  Fire,  candle, 
profligate  visitants,  expences,  losses,  children  ruined 
in  habits  and  morals,  and,  in  short,  a  train  of  evils 
hardly  to  be  enumerated,  arise  from  this  most  vi- 
cious habit  of  the  master  spending  his  leisure  time 
from  home.  But  beyond  all  the  rest  is  the  ill-ireat- 
mmt  of  the  wife.  When  left  to  ourselves  we  all 
seek  the  company  that  we  like  best ;  the  company 
in  which  we  take  tJie  most  delight :  and  therefore 
every  husband,  be  his  state  of  life  what  it  may,  who 
spends  his  leisure  time,  or  who,  at  least,  is  in  the 
habit  of  doing  it,  in  company  other  than  that  of  his 
wife  and  family,  tells  her  and  them,  as  plainly  by 
deeds  as  he  could  possibly  do  by  words,  that  he 
takes  more  delight  in  other  company  tJmn  in  theirs. 
Children  repay  this  with  disregard  for  their  father ; 
but  to  a  wife  of  auy  sensibility  it  is  either  a  dagger 


.  .Mi 


■« 


4 


1         i' 


if 


t  ■'  :f 


.{ 


m'*'i 


; 


!il 


J! 


136 


oobbett's  advice' 


[Letter 


to  her  heart  or  an  Incitement  to  revenge,  and  revenge, 
too,  of  a  species  which  a  young  woman  will  sel- 
dom be  long  in  want  of  the  means  to  gratify.  In 
conclusion  of  these  remarks  respecting  absentee  hus- 
bands, I  would  recommend  all  those  who  are  prone 
to,  or  likely  to  fall  into,  the  practice,  to  remember 
the  words  of  Mrs.  Sullen,  in  the  Beaux  Stratagem  : 
"My  husband,"  says  she,  addressing  a  footman 
whom  she  had  taken  as  a  paramour,  "  comes  reeling 
"  home  at  midnight,  tumbles  in  beside  me  as  a  sal- 
"  mon  flounces  in  a  net,  oversets  the  economy  of  my 
"  bed,  belches  the  fumes  of  his  drink  in  my  face, 
"  then  twists  himself  around,  leaving  me  half  naked, 
"  and  listening  till  morning  to  that  tuneful  nightin- 
"  gale,  his  nose."  It  is  at  least  forty-three  years 
since  I  read  the  Beaux  Stratagem,  and  I  now  quote 
from  memory ;  but  the  passage  has  always  occurred 
to  me  whenever  I  have  seen  a  sottish  husband  ;  and 
though  that  species  of  revenge,  for  the  taking  of 
which  the  lady  made  this  apology,  was  carrying 
the  thing  too  far,  yet  I  am  ready  to  confess, 
that  if  I  had  to  sit  in  judgment  on  her  for  ta- 
king even  this  revenge,  my  sentence  would  be 
very  lenient ;  for  what  right  has  such  a  husband 
to  ex^ecX  fidelity !  He  has  broken  his  vow ;  and  by 
what  rule  of  right  has  she  to  be  bound  to  hers  ?  She 
thought  that  she  was  marrying  a  man  ;  and  she 
finds  that  she  was  married  to  a  beast.  He  has,  in- 
deed, committed  no  offence  that  the  law  of  the  land 
can  reach ;  but  he  has  violated  the  vow  by  which  he 
obtained  possession  of  her  person ;  and,  in  the  eye 
of  justice,  the  compact  between  them  is  dissolved. 
174.  The  way  to  avoid  the  sad  consequences  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking  is  to  begin  well :  many 
a  man  has  become  a  sottish  husband,  and  brought  a 
family  to  ruin,  without  being  sottishly  inclined,  and 
without  liking  the  gossip  of  the  ale  or  coftee  house. 
It  is  by  slow  degrees  that  the  mischief  is  done. 
He  is  first  inveigled,  and,  in  time,  he  really  likes 
the  thing  j  and,  when  arrived  at  that  point,  he  is 
incurable.    Let  him  resolve,  from  the  very  first, 


*v- 


i#Nf 


je^j*- 


or. 


1     '^ 


[Letter 

revenge, 
will  sel- 
iify.  In 
ntee  hus- 
re  prone 
jniember 

ATAGEM : 

footman 
js  reeling 
I  as  a  sal- 
ny  of  my 
my  face, 
ilf  naked, 
I  nightin- 
ree  years 
low  quote 
5  occurred 
and  *,  and 
taking  of 
i  carrying 
»   confess, 
er  for  ta- 
would  be 
I  husband 
IV ;  and  by 
hers?  She 
;  and  she 
le  has,  in- 
of  the  land 
y  which  he 
in  the  eye 
dissolved, 
quences  of 
veil:  many 
I  brought  a 
iclined^  and 
)flee  house, 
^f  is  done, 
really  likes 
point,  he  is 
very  first, 


iv.j 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


137 


never  to  spend  an  7mtr  from  home,  unless  business, 
or,  at  least,  some  necessary  and  rational  purpose 
demand  it.  Wliere  ought  he  to  be,  but  with  the 
person  whom  he  himself  hath  chosen  to  be  his  part- 
ner for  life,  and  the  mother  of  his  children  ?  What 
other  company  ought  he  to  deem  so  good  and  so  fit- 
ting as  this  ?  With  whom  else  can  he  so  pleasantly 
spend  his  hours  of  leisure  and  relaxation?  Be- 
sides, if  he  quit  her  to  seek  company  more  agreea- 
ble, is  not  she  set  at  large  by  that  act  of  his  ?  What 
justice  is  there  in  confining  her  at  home  without 
any  company  at  all,  while  he  rambles  forth  in  search 
of  company  more  gay  thai,  he  finds  at  home  ? 

175.  Let  the  young  married  man  try  the  thing ; 
let  him  resolve  not  to  be  seduced  from  his  home ;  let 
him  never  go,  in  one  single  instance,  unnecessarily 
from  his  own  fire-side.  Habit  is  a  powerful  thing ; 
and  if  he  begin  right,  the  pleasure  that  he  will  de- 
rive from  it  will  induce  him  to  continue  right.  This 
is  not  being  "  tied  to  the  aprrni-strings,^^  which 
means  quite  another  matter,  as  I  shall  show  by-and- 
by.  It  is  being  at  the  husband's  place,  whether  he 
have  children  or  not.  And  is  there  any  want  of 
matter  for  conversation  between  a  man  and  his  wife  ? 
Why  not  talk  of  the  daily  occurrences  to  her,  as 
well  as  to  any  body  else ;  and  especially  to  a  com- 
pany of  tippling  and  noisy  men  ?  If  you  excuse  your- 
self by  saying  that  you  go  to  read  the  news^pcver,  I 
answer,  buy  the  newspaper,  if  you  must  read  j  .  the 
cost  is  not  half  of  what  you  spend  per  day  at  the 
pot-house ;  and  then  you  have  it  your  own,  and  may 
read  it  at  your  leisure,  and  your  wife  can  read  it  as 
well  as  yourself,  if  read  it  you  must.  And,  in  short, 
what  must  that  man  be  made  of,  who  does  not  prefer 
sitting  by  his  own  fire-side  with  his  wife  and  children, 
reading  to  them,  or  have  them  read,  to  hearing  the  gab- 
ble and  balderdash  of  a  club  or  a  pot-house  company ! 

176.  Men  must  frequently  be  from  home  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night.  Sailors,  soldiers,  mer- 
chants, all  men  out  of  the  common  track  of  labour, 
and  even  some  in  the  very  lowest  walks  are  some* 

12* 


■J 


\     i^ 


i 


< ;     i  fi 
i       'I 


1;  ;^^'  ff 


\\  > 


138 


Tm'^^ 


COBBETTS  ADVICE 


[Letter 


timescompelled  by  their  affairs,  or  by  circumstances, 
to  be  from  their  homes.  But  what  I  protest  against 
is,  the  habit  of  spending  leisure  hours  from  home, 
and  near  to  it ;  and  doing  this  without  any  necessi- 
ty, and  by  choice;  liking  the  next  door,  or  any 
house  in  the  same  street,  better  than  your  own. 
When  absent  from  necessity,  there  is  no  wound 
given  to  the  heart  of  the  wife ;  she  concludes  that 
you  would  be  with  her  if  you  could,  and  that  satis- 
fies ;  she  laments  the  absence,  but  submits  to  it 
without  complaining.  Yet,  in  these  cases,  her 
feelings  ought  to  be  consulted  as  much  as  possible ; 
she  ought  to  be  fully  apprised  of  the  probable  dura- 
tion of  the  absence,,  and  of  the  time  of  return ;  and 
if  these  be  dependent  on  circumstances,  those  cir- 
cumstances ought  to  be  fully  stated ;  for  you  have 
no  right  to  keep  Jier  mind  upon  the  rack,  when  you 
have  it  in  your  power  to  put  it  in  a  state,  of  ease. 
Few  men  %ave  been  more  frequently  taken  from 
home  by  business,  or  by  a  necessity  of  some  sort, 
than  I  have ;  and  I  can  positively  assert,  that,  as  to 
my  return,  I  never  once  disappointed  my  wife  in  the 
whole  course  of  our  married  life.  If  the  time  of 
return  was  contingent,  I  never  failed  to  keep  her 
informed  from  day  to  day :  if  the  time  was  fixed, 
or  when  it  became  fixed,  my  arrival  was  as  sure  as 
my  life.  Going  from  London  to  Botley,  once,  with 
Mr.  FiNNERTY,  whose  name  I  can  never  pronounce 
without  an  expression  of  my  regard  for  his  memory, 
we  stopped  at  Alton,  to  dine  with  a  friend,  who,  de- 
lighted with  Finnerty's  talk,  as  cvdi;y  body  else  was, 
kept  us  till  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  and  was  proceed- 
,^  ing  to  the  other  bottle,  when  I  put  in  my  protest, 
*  saying, "  We  must  go,  my  wife  will  be  frightened." 
"  Blood,  man,"  said  Finnerty,  "  you- do  not  mean  to 
go  home  to  night !"  I  told  him  I  did  ;  and  then 
sent  my  son,  who  was  with  us,  to  order  out  the  post- 
chaise.  We  had  twenty-three  miles  to  go,  during 
which  we  debated  the  question,  whether  Mrs.  Cob- 
BETT  would  be  up  to  receive  us,  I  contending  for  the 
affirmative,  and  he  for  the  negative.    She  was  up, 


[Letter 

istances, 
t  against 
m  home, 
'  necessi- 
,  or  any 
Dur  own. 
o  wound 
udes  that 
that  satis- 
nits  to  it 
3ases,  her 
possible ; 
lable  dura- 
iturn;  and 
those  cir- 
•  you  have 
when  you 
iteiOf  ease, 
taken  from 
some  sort, 
that,  as  to 
wife  in  the 
he  time  of 
)  keep  her 
was  fixed, 
as  sure  as 
once,  with 
pronounce 
^is  memory, 
id,  who,  de- 
.y  else  was, 
as  proceed- 
ny  protest, 
frightened." 
ot  mean  to 
,  and  then 
lUt  the  post- 
go,  during 
Mrs.  CoB- 
lingforthe 

Ihe  was  up, 


IV.J 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


1 1. 


139 


and  had  a  nice  fire  for  us  to  sit  down  at.  She  had 
not  committed  the  matter  to  a  servant ;  her  servants 
and  children  were  all  in  bed ;  and  she  was  up,  to 
perform  the  duty  of  receiving  her  husband  and  his 
friend.  "  You  did  not  expect  him  V  said  Finnerty. 
"  To  be  sure  I  did,"  said  she ;  "  he  never  disappoint- 
ed me  in  his  life." 

177.  Now,  if  all  young  men  knew  how  much 
value  women  set  upon  this  species  of  fidelity,  there 
would  be  fewer  unhappy  couples  than  there  are.    If 
men  have    appointments  with  lords^    they  never 
dream  of  breaking  them  ;  and  I  can  assure  them 
that  wives  are  as  sensitive  in  this  respect  as  lords.    I 
had  seen  many  instances  of  conjugal  unhappiness 
arising  out  of  that  carelessness  which  left  wives  in  a 
state  of  uncertainty  as  to  the  movements  of  their  hus- 
bands ;  and  I  took  care,  from  the  very  outset,  to 
guard  against  it.    For  no  man  has  a  right  to  sport 
with  the  feelings  of  any  innocent  person  whatever, 
and  particularly  with  those  of  one  who  has  commit- 
ted her  happiness  to  his  hands.    The  truth  is,  that 
men  in  general  look  upon  women  as  having  no 
feelings  different  from  their  ow^n  ;  and  they  know 
that  they  themselves  would  regard  such  disappoint- 
ments as  nothing.    But  this  is  a  great  mistake ;  wo- 
men feel  more  acutely  than  men  ;  their  love  is  more 
ardent,  more  pure,  more  lasting,  and  they  are  more 
frank  and  sincere  in  the  utterance  of  their  feelings. 
They  ought  to  be  treated  with  due  consideration  had 
for  all  their  amiable  qualities  and  all  their  weakness- 
es, and  nothing  by  which  their  minds  are  affected 
ought  to  be  deemed  a  trifie, 

178.  When  we  consider  what  a  young  woman 
gives  up  on  her  wedding  day  ;  she  makes  a  surren- 
der, an  absolute  surrender,  of  her  liberty,  for  the 
joint  lives  of  the  parties ;  she  gives  the  husband  the 
absolute  right  of*  causing  her  to  live  in  what  place, 
and  in  what  manner  and  what  society,  he  pleases ; 
she  gives  him  the  power  to  take  from  her,  and  to 
use,  for  his  own  purposes,  all  her  goods,  unless  re- 
served by  some  legal  instrument;  and,  above  all, 


\:^ 


,jf* 


;  i 


1 


\  , 


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II 


140 


cobbett'3  advice 


[Letter 


she  surrenders  to  him  Tier  person.  Then,  when  we 
consider  the  pains  which  they  endure  for  us,  and  the 
large  share  of  all  the  anxious  parental  cares  that 
fall  to  their  lot ;  when  we  consider  their  devotion  to 
us,  and  how  unshaken  their  affection  remains  in  our 
ailments,  even  though  the  most  tedious  and  disgust- 
ing; when  we  consider  the  offices  that  they  per- 
form, and  cheerfully  perform,  for  us,  when,  were 
we  left  to  one  another,  we  should  perish  from  neg- 
lect ;  when  we  consider  their  devotion  to  their  child- 
ren, how  evidently  they  love  them  better,  in  nume- 
rous instances,  than  their  own  lives  ;  when  we 
consider  these  things,  how  can  a  just,  man  think 
any  thing  a  trifle  that  affects  their  happiness  ?  I 
was  once  going,  in  my  gig,  up  the  hill,  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Frankford,  near  Philadelphia,  when  a  little 
girl,  about  two  years  old,  who  had  toddled  away 
from  a  small  house,  was  lying  basking  in  the  sun,  in 
the  middle  of  the  road.  About  two  hundred  yards 
before  I  got  to  the  child,  the  teams,  five  big  horses 
in  each,  of  three  wagons,  the  drivers  of  which  had 
stopped  to  drink  at  a  tavern  on  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
started  off,  and  came,  nearly  abreast,  galloping  down 
the  road.  I  got  my  gig  off  the  road  as  speedily  as  I 
could ;  but  expected  to  see  the  poor  child  crushed  to 
pieces.  A  young  man,  a  journeyman  carpenter, 
who  was  shingling  a  shed  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
seeing  the  child,  and  seeing  the  danger,  though  a 
stranger  to  the  parents,  jumped  from  the  top  of  the 
shed,  ran  into  the  road,  and  snatched  up  the  child, 
from  scarcely  an  inch  before  the  hoof  of  the  leading 
horse.  The  horse's  leg  knocked  him  down ;  but  he, 
catching  the  child  by  its  clothes,  flung  it  back,  out 
of  the  way  of  the  other  horses,  and  saved  himself  by 
rolling  back  with  surprising  agility.  The  mother 
of  the  child,  who  had  apparently,  been  washing, 
seeing  the  teams  coming,  and  seeing  the  situation 
of  the  child,  rushed  out,  and  catching  up  the  child, 
just  as  the  carpenter  had  flung  it  back,  and  hugging 
it  in  her  arms,  uttered  a  shriek  such  as  I  never  heard 
before,  never  heard  since,  and,  I  hope,  shall  never 


ren. 


ins  in  our 


len,  were 


IV.] 


TO   A  HUSBAND. 


141 


.     n.. 


.  M 


hear  again ;  and  then  she  dropped  down,  as  if  per* 
fectly  dead  !  By  the  application  of  the  usual  means, 
she  was  restored,  however,  in  a  little  while ;  and  I, 
being  about  to  depart,  asked  the  carpenter  if  he  were 
a  married  man,  and  whether  he  were  a  relation  of 
the  parents  of  the  "hild.  He  said  he  was  neither : 
"  Well,  then,"  said  I,  "  you  merit  the  gratitude  of 
"  every  father  and  mother  in  the  world,  and  I  will 
"  show  mine,  by  giving  you  what  I  have,"  pulling 
out  the  nine  or  ten  dollars  that  I  had  in  my  pocket. 
"  No  J  I  thank  you.  Sir,"  said  he :  "  I  have  only 
done  what  it  was  my  duty  to  do." 

179.  Bravery,  disinterestedness,  and  maternal  af- 
fection surpassing  these,  it  is  impossible  to  imagine. 
The  mother  was  going  right  in  amongst  the  feet  of 
these  powerful  and  wild  horses,  and  amongst  the 
wheels  of  the  wagons.  She  had  no  thought  for  her- 
self; no  feeling  of  fear  for  her  own  life  ;  her  shriek 
was  the  sound  of  inexpressible  joy ;  joy  too  great 
for  her  to  support  herself  under.  Perhaps  ninety- 
nine  mothers  out  of  every  hundred  would  have  acted 
the  same  part,  under  similar  circumstances.  There 
are,  comparatively,  very  few  women  not  replete 
with  maternal  love ;  and,  by-the-by,  take  you  care, 
if  you  meet  with  a  girl  who  "  is  not  fond  of  child- 
renj'^  not  to  marry  her  by  any  means.  Some  few 
there  arc  who  even  make  a  boast  that  they  "  cannot 
bear  children,"  that  is,  cannot  endure  them.  I  never 
knew  a  man  that  was  good  for  much  who  had  a  dis- 
like to  little  children ;  and  I  never  knew  a  woman 
of  that  taste  who  was  good  for  any  thing  at  all.  I 
have  seen  a  few  such  in  the  course  of  my  life,  and  I 
have  never  wished  to  see  one  of  them  a  second  time. 
V  180.  Being  fond  of  little  children  argues  no  effe- 
minacy in  a  man,  but,  as  far  as  my  observation  has 
gone,  the  contrary.  A  regiment  of  soldiers  pre- 
sents no  bad  school  wherein  to  study  character. 
Soldiers  have  leisure,  too,  to  play  with  children, 
as  well  as  with  "  women  and  dogs,"  for  which  the  pro- 
verb has  made  them  famed.  And  I  have  never  obser- 
ved that  effeminacy  was  at  all  the  marked  compan- 


m 


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il  .   i 


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/  ■ ..  'I 


.  ii: 


142 


cobbett's  advice 


LLetter 


ion  of  fondness  for  little  children.  Tills  fondness 
manifestly  arises  from  a  compassionate  feeling  to- 
wards creatures  that  are  helpless,  and  that  must  be 
innocent.  For  my  own  part,  how  many  days,  how 
many  months,  all  put  together,  have  1  spent  with 
babies  in  my  arms !  My  time,  when  at  home,  and 
"when  babies  were  going  on,  was  chiefly  divided  be- 
tween the  pen  and  the  baby.  I  have  fed  them  and 
put  them  to  sleep  hundreds  of  times,  though  there 
were  servants  to  whom  the  task  might  have  been 
transferred.  Yet,  I  have  not  been  effeminate;  I 
have  not  been  idle ;  I  have  not  been  a  waster  of 
time ;  but  I  should  have  been  all  these  if  I  had  dis- 
liked babies,  and  had  liked  the  porter  pot  and  the 
grog  glass. 

181.  It  is  an  old  saying,  "  Praise  the  child,  and 
you  make  love  to  the  mother ;"  and  it  is  surprising 
how  far  this  will  go.  To  a  fond  mother  you  can  do 
nothing  so  pleasing  as  to  praise  the  baby,  and,  the 
younger  it  is,  the  more  she  values  the  compliment. 
Say  fine  things  to  her,  and  take  no  notice  of  her  ba- 
by, and  she  will  despise  you.  I  have  often  beheld 
this,  in  many  women,  with  gi'eat  admiration ;  and 
it  is  a  thing  that  no  husband  ought  to  overlook ;  for 
if  the  wife  wish  her  child  to  be  admired  by  others, 
what  must  be  the  ardour  of  her  wishes  with  regard 
to  his  admiration.  There  was  a  drunken  dog  of  a 
Norfolk  man  in  our  regiment,  who  came  from  Thet- 
ford,  I  recollect,  who  used  to  say,  that  his  wife  would 
forgive  him  for  spending  all  the  pay,  and  the  wash- 
ing money  into  the  bargain,  "  if  he  would  but  kiss 
her  ugly  brat  and  say  it  was  pretty."  Now,  though 
this  was  a  very  profligate  fellow,  helrndphilosoj^y 
in  him ;  and  certain  it  is,  that  there  is  nothing  wor- 
thy of  the  name  of  conjugal  happiness,  unless  the 
husband  clearly  evince  that  he  is  fond  of  his 
children,  and  that,  too,  from  their  very  birth. 

182.  But  though  all  the  aforementioned  cc:iside- 
rations  demand  from  us  the  kindest  possible  treat- 
ment of  a  wife,  the  husband  is  to  expect  dutiful  de- 
portment at  her  hands.    He  is  not  to  be  her  slave; 


he 


ing, 


tLetter    I    IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


143 


■<      ' 


I  Ibndness 
feeling  to-  , 
it  must  be 
days,  how 
ipent  with 
home,  and 
livided  be- 
l  them  and 
:)ugh  there 
have  been 
iminate;  I 
,  waster  of 
:  I  had  dis- 
lOt  and  the 

child,  and 
3  surprising 
you  can  do 
jy,  and,  the 
;ompliment. 
e  of  her  ba- 
>ften  beheld 
ation ;  and 
[erlook ;  for 
by  others, 
ith  regard 
[n  dog  of  a 
from  Thet- 
wife  would 
the  wash- 
ild  but  kiss 
bw,  though 
philosophy 
•thing  wor- 
unless  the 
Ind  of  his 
lirth. 

id  cc:iside- 
isible  treat- 
dutiful  de- 
her  slave; 


he  is  not  to  yield  to  her  against  the  dictates  of  his 
own  reason  and  judgment ;  it  is  her  duty  to  obey  all 
his  lawful  commands ;  and,  if  she  have  sense,  she 
will  perceive  that  it  is  a  disgrace  to  herself  to  acknow- 
ledge, as  a  husband,  a  thing  over  which  she  has  an 
absolute  controul.  It  should  always  be  recollected 
that  you  are  the  party  whose  body  must,  if  any  do, 
lie  in  jail  for  debt,  and  for  debts  of  her  contracting, 
too,  as  well  as  of  your  own  contracting.  Over  her 
tonffue,  too,  you  possess  a  clear  right  to  exercise,  if 
necessary,  some  controul ;  for  if  she  use  it  in  an  un- 
justifiable manner,  it  is  against  you  and  not  against 
her,  that  the  law  enables,  and  justly  enables,  the 
slandered  party  to  proceed ;  which  would  be  mon- 
strously unjust,  if  the  law  were  not  founded  on  the 
right  which  the  husband  has  to  controul,  if  necessa- 
ry, the  tongue  of  the  wife,  to  compel  her  to  keep  it 
within  the  limits  prescribed  by  the  law.  A  charm- 
ing, a  most  enchanting  life,  indeed,  would  be  that 
of  a  husband,  if  he  were  bound  to  cohabit  with  and 
to  maintain  one  for  all  the  debts  and  all  the  slanders 
of  whom  he  was  answerable,  and  over  whose  con- 
duct he  possessed  no  compulsory  controul. 

183.  Of  the  remedies  in  the  case  of  really  bad 
wives,  squanderers,  drunkards,  adultresses,  I  shall 
speak  further  on ;  it  being  the  habit  of  us  all  to  put  off 
,to  the  last  possible  moment  the  performance  of  dis- 
agreeable duties.  But,  far  short  of  these  vices  there 
are  several  faults  in  a  wife  that  may,  if  not  cured  in 
time,  lead  to  great  unhappiness,  great  injury  to  the 
interests  as  well  as  character  of  her  husband  and 
children ;  and  which  faults  it  is,  therefore,  the  hus- 
band's duty  to  correct.  A  wife  may  be  chaste,  sober 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  industrious,  cleanly, 
frugal,  and  may  be  devoted  to  her  husband  and  her 
children  to  a  degree  so  enchanting  as  to  make  them 
all  love  her  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  express. 
And  yet  she  may,  partly  under  the  influence  of  her 
natural  disposition,  and  partly  encouraged  by  the 
I  great  and  constant  homage  paid  to  her  virtues,  and 
presuming,  too,  on  the  pain  with  which  she  knows 


) 

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^ii! 


!*•!•  i 


144 


COBBETT'9   ADVlCfi 


LLeiter 


her  will  would  be  thwarted ;  she  may,  with  all  her 
virtues,  be  thus  led  to  a  bold  interference  in  the  af- 
fairs  of  her  husband  /  may  attempt  to  dictate  to  him 
in  matters  quite  out  of  her  own  sphere ;  and,  in  the 
pursuit  of  the  gratification  of  her  love  of  power  and 
command,  may  wholly  overlook  the  acts  of  folly  or 
injustice  which  she  would  induce  her  husband  to 
commit,  and  overlook,  too,  the  contemptible  thing 
that  she  is  making  the  man  whom  it  is  her  duty  to 
honour  and  obey,  and  the  abasement  of  whom  can- 
not take  place  without  some  portion  of  degradation 
falling  upon  herself.  At  the  time  when  "  THE  BOOK" 
came  out,  relative  to  the  late  ill-treated  Queen  Caro- 
line, I  was  talking  upon  the  subject,  one  day,  with 
a  parson^  who  had  not  read  the  Book,  but  who,  as 
was  the  fashion  with  all  those  who  were  looking  up 
to  the  government,  condemned  the  Queen  unheard. 
-'Now,"  said  I,  "be  not  so  shamefully  unjust;  but 
"^e/  the  book)  read  it,  and  then  give  your  judgment." 
— "Indeed,"  said  his  wife,  who  was  sitting  by,  "but 
HE  SHA'N'T,"  pronouncing  the  words  sha^nHwlih 
an  emphasis  and  a  voice  tremendously  masculine. 
"Oh!"  said  I,  "if  he  SHA'N'T,  that  is  another mat- 
"  ter ;  but,  if  he  sha'  n't  read,  if  he  sha'  n't  hear  the 
"  evidence,  he  sha'  n't  be  looked  upon,  by  me,  as  a 
"just  judge;  and  I  sha'  n't  regard  him,  in  future,  as 
"having  any  opinion  of  his  own  in  any  thing."  All 
which  the  husband,  the  poor  henpecked  thing,  heard 
without  a  word  escaping  his  lips. 

184.  A  husband  thus  under  command,  is  the  most 
contemptible  of  God's  creatures.  Nobody  can  place 
reliance  on  him  for  any  thing;  whether  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  employer  or  employed,  you  are  never  sure 
of  him.  No  bargain  is  firm,  no  engagement  sacred, 
with  such  a  man.  Feeble  as  a  reed  before  the  bois- 
terous she-commander,  he  is  bold  in  injustice  to- 
wards those  whom  it  pleases  her  caprice  to  mark 
out  for  vengeance.  In  the  eyes  of  neighbours,  for 
friends  such  a  man  cannot  have,  in  the  eyes  of  ser- 
vants, in  the  eyes  of  even  the  beggars  at  his  door, 
such  a  man  is  a  mean  and  despicable  creature,  though 


IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


145 


he  may  roll  in  wealtlTand  possess  great  talents  into 
the  bargain.  Such  a  man  has,  in  fact,  no  property; 
he  has  nothing  that  he  can  rightly  call  his  ovm  ;  he 
is  a  beggarly  dependent  under  his  own  roof;  and  if 
he  have  any  thing  of  the  man  left  in  him,  and  if  there 
be  rope  or  river  near,  the  sooner  he  betakes  him  to 
the  one  or  the  other  tlie  better.  How  many  men, 
how  many  families,  have  I  known  brought  to  utter 
p' \  t  ^ly  by  the  husband  suffering  himself  to  be  sub- 
i  d  >  be  cowed  down,  to  be  held  in  fear,  of  even 
a  virtuous  wife !  What,  then,  must  be  the  lot  of  him 
who  submits  to  a  commander  who,  at  the  same  time, 
sets  all  virtue  at  defiance ! 

185.  Women  are  a  sisterhood.  They  make  com- 
mon cause  in  behalf  of  the  sex }  and,  indeed,  this  is 
natural  enough,  when  we  consider  the  vast  power 
that  the  law  gives  us  over  them.  The  law  is  for  us, 
and  they  combine,  wherever  they  can,  to  mitigate  its 
effects.  This  is  perfectly  natural,  and,  to  a  certain 
extent,  laudabie,  evincing  fellow-feeling  and  public 
spirit:  but  when  carried  to  the  length  of  "^es^a'wV 
it  is  despotism  on  the  one  side  and  slavery  on  the  other. 
Watch,  therefore,  the  incipient  steps  of  encroach- 
ment; and  they  come  on  so  slowly  so  softly,  that  you 
must  be  sharp-sighted  if  you  perceive  them :  but  the 
moment  you  do  perceive  them :  your  love  will  blind 
for  too  long  a  time ;  but  the  moment  you  do  perceive 
them,  put  at  once  an  effectual  stop  to  their  progress. 
Never  minri  the  pain  that  it  may  give  you:  a  day  of 
pain  at  this  time  will  spare  you  years  of  pain  in  time 
to  come.  Many  a  man  has  been  miserable,  and  made 
his  wife  miserable  too,  for  a  score  or  two  of  years, 
only  for  want  of  resolution  to  bear  one  day  of  pain: 
and  it  is  a  great  deal  to  bear;  it  is  a  great  deal  to 
do  to  thwart  the  desire  of  one  whom  you  so  dearly 
love,  and  whose  virtues  daily  render  her  more  and 
more  dear  to  you.  But  (and  this  is  one  of  the  most 
admirable  of  the  mother's  traits)  as  she  herself  will, 
while  the  tears  stream  from  her  eyes,  force  the  nau- 
seous medicine  down  the  throat  of  her  child,  whose 
every  cry  is  a  dagger  to  her  heart ;  as  she  herself 

13 


•  1 


;:? 


,t  !„1 


'^4 


■■\ 


m 


I 


146 


cobbett's  advick 


[Lettej 


I,,  ! 


r  i' 


'    ''^IB 


^-^it  il||||:':ii?,.r 


m 


:         i 


has  the  courage  to  do  this  for  the  sake  of  her  child, 
why  should  you  flinch  from  the  performance  of  a 
still  more  important  and  more  sacred  duty  towards 
herself,  as  well  as  towards  you  and  your  children? 

186.  Am  I  recommending  tyranny  7  Am  I  recom- 
mending dwr^jO-arcZ  of  the  wife's  opinions  and  wishes? 
Am  I  recommending  ^.reserve  towards  her  that  would 
seem  to  say  that  she  was  not  trust-worthy,  or  not  a 
party  interested  in  her  husband's  affairs?  By  no 
means :  on  the  contrary,  though  I  would  keep  any 
thing  disagreeable  from  her,  I  should  not  enjoy  the 
prospect  of  good  without  making  her  a  participator. 
But  reason  says,  and  God  has  said,  that  it  is  the  duty 
of  wives  to  be  obedient  to  their  husbands ;  and  the 
very  nature  of  things  prescribes  that  there  must  be 
a  head  of  every  house,  and  an  undivided  authority. 
And  then  it  is  so  clearly  just  that  the  authority  should 
rest  with  him  on  whose  head  rests  the  whole  respon- 
sibility, that  a  woman,  when  patiently  reasoned  with 
on  the  subject,  must  be  a  virago  in  her  very  nature 
not  to  submit  with  docility  to  the  terms  of  her  mar- 
riage vow. 

187.  There  are,  in  almost  every  considerable  neigh- 
bourhood, a  little  squadron  of  she-commanders, 
generally  the  youngish  wives  of  old  or  weak-minded 
men,  and  generally  without  children.  These  are  the 
tutoresses  of  the  young  wives  of  the  vicinage;  they, 
in  virtue  of  their  experience,  not  only  school  the 
wives,  but  scold  the  husbands  ;  they  teach  the  for- 
mer how  to  encroach  and  the  latter  how  to  yield:  so 
that  if  you  suffer  this  to  go  quietly  on,  you  are  soon 
under  the  care  of  a  comite  as  completely  as  if  you 
were  insane.  You  want  no  comite :  reason,  law,  re- 
ligion, the  marriage  vow ;  all  these  have  made  you 
head,  have  given  you  full  power  to  rule  your  family, 
and  if  you  give  up  your  right,  you  deserve  the  con- 
tempt that  assuredly  awaits  you,  and  also  the  ruin 
that  is,  in  all  probability,  your  doom. 

188.  Taking  it  for  granted  that  you  will  not  suf- 
fer more  than  a  second  or  third  session  of  the  female 
comith^  let  me  say  a  word  or  two  about  the  conduct  of 


v« 


IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


147 


men  in  deciding  between  the  conflicting  opinions  of 
husbands  and  wives.  When  a  wife  has  a  point  to  car- 
ryj  and  finds  herself  hard  pushed,  or  when  she  thinks 
it  necessary  to  call  to  her  aid  all  the  force  she  can 
possibly  muster;  one  of  her  resources  is,  the  vote  on 
her  side  of  all  her  husband's  visiting  friends.  "  My 
"  husband  thinks  so  and  so,  and  I  think  so  and  so ; 
^'  now,  Mr.  Tomkins,  dont  you  think  /  am  right  ?" 
To  be  sure  he  does ;  and  so  does  Mr.  Jenkins,  and 
so  does  Mr.Wilkins,  and  so  does  K  -.  Dickins,  and  you 
would  swear  .that  they  were  all  her  kins.  Now  this 
is  very  foolish,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  None  of  these 
complaisant  kins  would  like  this  in  their  own  case. 
It  is  the  fashion  to  say  aye  to  all  that  a  woman  as- 
serts, or  contends  for,  especially  in  contradiction  to 
her  husband ;  and  a  very  pernicious  fashion  it  is.  It 
is,  in  fact,  not  to  pay  her  a  compliment  worthy  of 
acceptance,  but  to  treat  her  as  an  empty  and  conceit- 
ed fool ;  and  no  sensible  woman  will,  except  from 
mere  inadvertence,  make  the  appeal.  This  fashion, 
however,  foolish  and  contemptible  as  it  is  in  itself, 
is  attended,  very  frequently,  with  serious  conse- 
quences. Backed  by  the  opinion  of  her  husband's 
friends,  the  wife  returns  to  the  charge  with  redoubled 
vigour  and  obstinacy;  and  if  you  do  not  yield,  ten 
to  one  but  a  quarrel  is  the  result ;  or,  at  least,  some- 
thing approaching  towards  it.  A  gentleman  at  whose 
house  I  was,  about  five  years  ago,  was  about  to  take 
a  fhrm  for  his  eldest  son,  who  was  a  very  fine  young 
man,  about  eighteen  years  old.  The  mother,  who 
was  as  virtuous  and  as  sensible  a  woman  as  I  have 
ever  known,  wished  him  to  be  "  in  the  law."  There 
were  six  or  eight  intimate  friends  present,  and  all 
unhesitatingly  joined  the  lady,  thinking  it  a  pity 
that  HarrV,  who  had  had  "  such  a  good  education," 
should  be  buried  in  a  farm-house.  "  And  don't  you 
think  so  too,  Mr.  Cobbett,"  said  the  lady,  with  great 
earnestness.  "Indeed,  Ma'am,"  said  I, "  I  should  think 
"it  very  great  presumption  in  me  to  offer  any 
"  opinion  at  all,  and  especially  in  opposition  to  the 
"  knowa  decision  of  the  father^  who  is  the  be>st  judge, 


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148 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


!''         '! 


.  til 


I  I, 


III 


* 


-.JflllilHiill'i! 
'■'\ '] 


h< 


■I 

i:l 


"and  the  only  rightful  judge,  in  such  a  case."  This 
was  a  very  sensible  and  well-behaved  woman^  and  I 
still  respect  her  very  highly  5  but  I  could  perceive 
that  I  instantly  dropped  out  of  her  good  graces. 
Harry,  hov^rever,  I  was  glad  to  hear,  went  "  to  be 
buried  in  the  farm-house." 

189.  "  A  house  divided  against  itself,"  or,  rather, 
in  itself,  "cannot  stand;"  and  it  ts  divided  against 

.  itself  if  there  be  a  divided  authority.  The  wife  ought 
to  be  heardf  and  patiently  heard  j  she  ought  to  be 
reasoned  with,  and,  if  possible,  convinced ;  but  if, 
after  all  endeavours  in  this  way,  she  remain  opposed 
to  the  husband's  opinion,  his  will  must  be  obeyed ; 
or  he,  at  once,  becomes  nothing ;  she  is,  in  fact,  the 
master^  and  he  is  nothing  but  an  insignificant  in- 
mate. As  to  matters  of  little  comparative  moment ; 
as  to  what  shall  be  for  dinner ;  as  to  how  the  house 
shall  be  furnished ;  as  to  the  management  of  the 
house  and  of  menial  servants :  as  to  those  matters, 
and  many  others,  the  wife  may  have  her  way  with- 
out any  danger ;  but  when  the  questions  are,  what 
is  to  be  the  caUing  to  be  pursued ;  what  is  to  be  the 
^lace  of  residence;  what  is  to  be  the  style  of  living 
and  scale  of  expence ;  what  is  to  be  done  with  fro- 
perty;  what  the  manner  and  place  of  educating 
children ;  what  is  to  be  their  calling  or  state  of  life  ^ 
who  are  to  be  employed  or  entrusted  by  the  hus- 
band ;  what  are  the  principles  that  he  is  to  adopt  as 
to  public  matters ;  whom  he  is  to  have  for  coadju- 
tors or  friends ;  all  these  must  be  left  solely  to  the 
husband ;  in  all  these  he  must  have  his  will ;  or  there 
never  can  be  any  harmony  in  the  family. 

190.  Nevertheless,  in  some  of  these  concerns, 
wives  should  be  heard  with  a  great  deal  of  attention, 
especially  in  the  affairs  of  choosing  your  male  ac- 
quaintances and  friends  and  associates.  Women  are 
more  quick-sighted  than  men ;  they  are  less  disposed 
to  confide  in  persons  upon  a  first  acquaintance ;  they 
are  more  suspicious  as  to  motives ;  they  are  less 
liable  to  be  deceived  by  professions  and  protesta- 
tions; they  watch  words  with  a  more  scrutinizing 


.  .y 


te 

,* 


[Letter 

ise."  This 
tiaiij  and  I 
I  perceive 
)d  graces, 
jnt "  to  be 

or,  rather, 
ed  against 
wife  ought 
ight  to  be 
ed ;  but  if, 
in  opposed 
)e  obeyed ; 
in  fact,  the 
nificant  in- 
3  moment ; 
'■  the  house 
lent  of  the 
se  matters, 
way  with- 
are,  what 
is  to  be  the 
le  of  living 
B  with  pro- 
educating 
tate  of  Ufej 
y  the  hus- 
to  adopt  as 
for  coadju- 
olely  to  the 
11 5  or  there 

concerns, 
if  attention, 
ir  male  ac- 
Women  are 
ss  disposed 
ance ;  they 
ey  are  less 
d  protesta- 
crutinizing 


!;r.:J 


iv.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


149 


€ar,  and  looks  with  a  keener  eye ;  and,  making  due 
allowance  for  their  prejudices  in  particular  cases, 
their  opinions  and  remonstrances,  with  regard  to 
matters  of  this  sort,  ought  not  to  be  set  at  naught 
without  great  deliberation.  Lou  vet,  one  of  the 
Brissotins  who  fled  for  their  lives  in  the  time  of  Ro- 
bespierre; this  LouvET,  in  his  narrative,  entitled 
"Mes  Perils,"  and  which  I  read,  for  the  first  time, 
to  divert  my  mind  from  the  perils  of  the  yellow-fe- 
ver, in  Philadelphia,  but  with  which  I  was  so  capti- 
vated as  to  have  read  it  many  times  since ;  this  wri- 
ter, giving  an  account  of  his  wonderful  dangers  and 
escapes,  relates,  that  being  on  his  way  to  Paris  from 
the  vicinity  of  Bordeaux,  and  having  no  regular 
passport,  fell  lame,  but  finally  crept  on  to  a  misera- 
ble pot-house,  in  a  small  town  in  the  Limosin.  The 
landlord  questioned  him  with  regard  to  who  and 
what  he  was,  and  whence  he  came ;  and  was  satisfi- 
ed with  his  answers.  But  the  landlady,  who  had 
looked  sharply  at  him  on  his  arrival,  whispered  a 
little  boy,  who  ran  away,  and  quickly  returned  with 
the  mayor  of  the  town.  Louvet  soon  discovered 
that  there  was  no  danger  in  the  mayor,  who  could 
not  decipher  his  forged  passport,  and  who,  being 
well  plied  with  wine,  wanted  to  hear  no  more  of  the 
matter.  The  landlady,  perceiving  this,  slipped  out 
and  brought  a  couple  of  aldermen,  who  asked  to  see 
the  passport.  "O,  yes;  but  drink  Jirst,"  Then 
there  was  a  laughing  etory  to  tell  over  again,  at  the 
request  of  the  half-drunken  mayor ;  then  a  laughing 
and  more  drinking ;  the  passport  in  Louvet's  hand, 
.but  never  opened,  and,  while  another  toast  was  drink- 
ing, the  passport  slid  back  quietly  into  the  pocket ; 
the  woman  looking  furious  all  the  while.  At  last, 
the  mayor,  the  aldermen,  and  the  landlord,  all  nearly 
drunk,  shook  hands  with  Louvet,  and  wished  him  a 
good  journey,  swore  he  was  a  true  sans  cidotte  ;  but, 
he  says,  that  the  "  sharp-sighted  woman,  who  was 
"to  be  deceived  by  none  of  his  stories  or  professions, 
"saw  him  get  off  with  deep  and  manifest  disappoint- 
"ment  and  chagrin."    I  have  thought  of  this  many 


h,    \. 


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cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


% 


times  since,  when  I  have  had  occasion  to  witness 
the  quick'Sightedness  and  penetration  of  women. 
The  same  quality  that  makes  them,  as  they  noto- 
riously are,  more  quick  in  discovering  expedients  in 
cases  of  difficulty,  makes  them  more  apt  to  pene- 
trate into  motives  and  character. 

191.  I  now  come  to  a  matter  of  the  greatest  pos- 
sible importance;  namely,  that  great  troubler  of  the 
married  state,  that  great  bane  of  families,  jealousy  ; 
and  I  shall  first  speak  of  jealmisy  in  the  wife.  This 
is  always  an  unfortunate  thing,  and  sometimes  fatal. 
Yet,  if  there  be  a  great  propensity  towards  it,  it  is 
very  difficult  to  be  prevented.  One  thing,  however, 
every  husband  can  do  in  the  way  of  prevention ;  and 
that  is,  to  give  no  ground,  for  it.  And  here,  it  is  not 
sufficient  that  he  strictly  adhere  to  his  marriage 
TOW ;  he  ought  further  to  abstain  from  every  art, 
however  free  from  guilt,  calculated  to  awaken  the 

j^  slightest  degree  of  suspicion  in  a  mind,  the  peace  of 
"'■which  he  is  bound  by  every  tie  of  justice  and  hu- 
'  inanity  not  to  disturb,  or,  if  he  can  avoid  it,  to  suffer 
It  to  be  disturbed  by  others.  A  woman  that  is  very 
fond  of  her  husband,  and  this  is  the  case  with  nine- 
tenths  of  English  and  American  women,  does  not 
like  to  share  with  another  any,  even  the  smallest 
I)ortion,  not  only  of  his  affection,  but  of  his  assidui- 
ties and  applause ;  and,  as  the  bestowing  of  them  on 
another,  and  receiving  payment  in  kind,  can  serve 
no  purpose  other  than  of  gratifying  one's  vanity^ 
they  ought  to  be  abstained  from,  and  especially  if 
the  gratification  be  to  be  purchased  with  even  the 
chance  of  exciting  uneasiness  in  her,  whom  it  is 
your  sacred  duty  to  make  as  happy  as  you  can. 

192.  For  about  two  or  three  years  after  I  was 
married,  I,  retaining  some  of  m)^  military  manners, 
used,  both  in  France  and  America,  to  ramp  most 
famously  with  the  girls  that  came  in  my  way ;  till 
one  day,  at  Philadelphia,  my  wife  said  to  me,  in  a 
very  gentle  manner,  "  Don't  do  that  \  I  do  not  like 
iJ."  That  was  quite  enough :  I  had  never  thought 
on  the  subject  before :  one  hair  of  her  head  was 


wise, 


sures 
194 
being 
Ireedi 
to  sit 
walk 
thanl 
near, 
I  neve 


<j 


to  me,  in  a 


IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


151 


■£>:* 


more  dear  to  me  than  all  the  other  women  in  the 
world,  and  this  I  knew  that  she  knew ;  but  I  now 
saw  that  this  was  not  all  that  she  had  a  right  to  from 
me ;  I  saw,  that  she  had  the  further  claim  upon  me 
that  I  should  abstain  from  every  thing  that  might 
induce  others  to  believe  that  there  was  any  other 
woman  for  whom,  even  if  I  were  at  liberty,  I  had 
any  affection.  I  beseech  young  married  men  to  bear 
this  in  mind ;  for,  on  some  trifle  of  this  sort,  the 
happiness  or  misery  of  a  long  life  frequently  turns. 
If  the  mind  of  a  wife  be  disturbed  on  this  score, 
every  possible  means  ought  to  be  used  to  restore  it 
to  peace ;  and  though  her  suspicions  be  perfectly 
groundless  ;  though  they  be  wild  as  the  dreams  of 
madmen ;  though  they  may  present  a  mixture  of  the 
furious  and  the  ridiculous,  still  they  are  to  be  treat- 
ed with  the  greatest  lenity  and  tenderness;' and  if, 
after  all,  you  fail,  the  frailty  is  to  be  lamented  as  a 
misfortune,  and  not  punished  as  a  fault,  seeing  that 
it  must  have  its  foundation  in  a  feeling  towards  3'^ou, 
which  it  would  be  the  basest  of  ingratitude,  and  the 
most  ferocious  of  cruelty,  to  repay  by  harshnesn  of 
any  description.  ^^^ 

193.  As  to  those  husbands  who  make  the  unju6t 
suspicions  of  their  wives  sl  justification  for  making 
those  suspicions  just ;  as  to  such  as  can  make  a  sport 
of  such  suspicions,  rather  brag  of  them  than  other- 
wise, and  endeavour  to  aggravate  rather  than  as- 
suage them ;  as  to  such  I  have  nothing  to  say,  they 
being  far  without  the  scope  of  any  advice  that  I  can 
offer.  But  to  such  as  are  not  of  this  description,  I 
have  a  remark  or  two  to  offer  with  respect  to  mea- 
sures of  prevention. 

194.  And,  first,  I  never  could  see  the  sense  of  its 
being  a  piece  of  etiquette,  a  sort  of  mark  of  good 
Ireming',  to  make  it  a  rule  that  man  and  wife  are  not 
to  sit  side  by  side  inamixed  company;  that  if  a  party 
walk  out,  the  wife  is  to  give  her  arm  to  some  other 
than  her  husband ;  that  if  there  be  any  other  hand 
near,  his  is  not  to  help  to  a  seat  or  into  a  carriage. 
I  never  could  see  the  sense  of  this ;  but  I  have  al* 


I 


1  ■!;:  ■ 


1l, 


an- 


1;'    1^ '  • 

:  1    .: 

i:-ji  ■;. 

4 

m 


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in 


192 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


ivi 


kwi 


]>"\:^ 


'.':    .!■ 


-> 


■t 


ways  seen  the  nmsense  of  it  plainly  enough ;  it  is, 
in  short,  amongst  many  other  foolish  and  mischie- 
vous things  that  we  do  in  aping  the  manners  of 
those  whose  riches  (frequently  ill-gotten)  and  whose 
power  embolden  them  to  set,  with  impunity,  perni- 
cious examples  j  and  to  their  examples  this  nation 
owes  more  of  its  degradation  in  morals  than  to  any 
other  source.  The  truth  is,  that  this  is  a  piece  of 
fcdse  refinement :  it,  being  interpreted,  means,  that 
so  free  are  the  parties  from  a  liability  to  suspicion, 
so  innately  virtuous  and  pure  are  they,  that  each 
man  can  safely  trust  his  wife  with  another  man,  and 
each  woman  her  husband  with  another  woman. 
But  this  piece  of  false  refinement,  like  all  others, 
overshoots  its  mark ;  it  says  too  much ;  for  it  says 
that  the  parties  have  lewd  thoughts  in  their  minds. 
This  is  not  the^acZ,  with  regard  to  people  in  general; 
but  it  must  have  been  the  origin  of  this  set  of  con- 
summately ridiculous  and  contemptible  rules. 

195.  Now  I  would  advise  a  young  man,  especially 
if  he  have  a  pretty  wife,  not  to  commit  her  unneces- 
sarily to  the  care  of  any  other  man ;  not  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  her  in  this  studious  and  ceremonious 
manner ;  and  not  to  be  ashamed  to  prefer  her  com- 
pany and  conversation  to  that  of  any  other  woman. 
I  never  could  discover  any  good  breeding  in  set- 
ting another  man,  almost  expressly,  to  poke  his  nose 
up  in  the  face  of  my  wife,  and  talk  nonsense  to  her ; 
for,  in  such  cases,  nonsense  it  generally  is.  It  is  not 
a  thing  of  much  consequence,  to  be  sure ;  but  when 
the  wife  is  young,  especially,  it  is  not  seemly,  at  any 
rate,  and  it  cannot  possibly  lead  to  any  good,  though 
it  may  not  lead  to  any  great  evil.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  may  be  quite  sure  that,  whatever 
she  may  seem  to  think,  of  the  matter,  she  will  not 
like  you  the  better  for  your  attentions  of  this  sort  to 
other  women,  especially  if  they  be  young  and  hand- 
some :  and  as  this  species  of  fashionable  nonsense 
can  do  you  no  good,  why  gratify  your  love  of  talk, 
or  the  vanity  of  any  woman,  at  even  the  risk  of  I 
exciting  uneasiness  in  that  mind  of  which  it  is  your 


[Lettei   I    IV.I 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


153 


igh ;  it  is, 
L  mischie- 
lanners  of 
and  whose 
ity,  perni- 
his  nation 
lian  to  any 
a  piece  of 
aeans,  that 
suspicion, 
,  that  each 
sr  man,  and 
er  woman, 
all  others, 
;  for  it  says 
Iheir  mimls, 
3  in  general; 
I  set  of  coii- 
mles. 

,n,  especially 
ler  unneces- 
it  to  be  sepa- 
ceremonious 
lev  her  com- 
;her  woman. 
iding  inset- 
>oke  his  nose 
lensetoher; 
is.    It  is  not 
e ;  but  when 
iemly,atany 
rood,  though 
'.nd,  on  the 
it,  whatever 
she  will  not 
ff  this  sort  to 
g  and  hand- 
jle  nonsense 
love  of  talk, 
the  risk  of 
Lch  it  is  youi 


most  sacred  duty  to  preserve,  if  you  can,  the  uninter- 
rupted tranquillity. 

196.  The  truth  is,  that  the  greatest  security  of  all 
against  jealousy  in  a  wife  is  to  show,  to  prcme,  by 
your  acts,  by  your  words  also,  but  more  especially 
by  your  actSj  that  you  prefer  her  to  all  the  world ; 
and,  as  I  said  before,  I  know  of  no  act  that  is,  in  this 
respect,  equal  to  spending  in  her  company  every 
moment  of  your  leisure  time.    Every  body  knows, 
and  young  wives  better  than  any  body  else,  that 
poople,  w^o  C8^   hoose,  will  be  where  they  like  best 
to  be,  and   ..at  w.    ^  will  be  along  ^iva  those  t/?/iose 
company  they  best  like.    The  matter  is  very  plain, 
then,  and  I  do  beseech  you  to  bear  it  in  mind.    Nor 
do  I  see  the  use,  or  sense,  of  keeping  a  great  deal  of 
cmipany  as  it  is  called.     "What  company  can  a 
young  man  and  woman  want  more  than  their  two 
selves,  and  their  children,  if  they  have  any  ?    If 
here  be  not  company  enough,  it  is  but  a  sad  affair. 
The  pernicious  cards  are  brought  forth  by  the  com- 
pany-keeping, the  rival  expences,  the  sittings  up 
late  at  night,  the  seeing  of  "  the  ladies  home,''^  and  a 
thousand  squabbles  and  disagreeable  consequences. 
But,  the  great  thing  of  all  is,  that  this  hankering 
after  company,  proves,  clearly  proves,  that  you 
want  something  beyond  the  society  of  your  wife  ;  and 
that  she  is  sure  to  feel  most  acutely :  the  bare  fact 
contains  an  imputation  against  her,  and  it  is  pretty 
sure  to  lay  the  foundation  of  jealousy,  or  of  some- 
thing still  worse. 

1^.  If  acts  of  kindness  in  you  are  necessary  in 
all  cases,  they  are  especially  so  in  cases  of  her  ill- 
ness, from  whatever  cause  arising.  I  will  not  sup- 
pose myself  to  be  addressing  any  husband  capable 
of  being  unconcerned  while  his  wife's  life  is  in  the 
most  distant  danger  from  illness,  though  it  has  been 
my  very  great  mortification  to  know  in  my  life  time^ 
two  or  three  brutes  of  this  description ;  but,  far 
short  of  this  degree  of  brutality,  a  great  deal  of 
fault  may  be  committed.  When  men  are  ill,  they 
feel  every  neglect  with  double  anguish,  and,  what 


iS 


■.\-r~\  \: 


.it: 


W  i; 


■'■i 


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i 


t  n 


'm 


Vyr    ■ 


154 


cobbett's  adticb 


[tetter 


then  must  be  in  such  cases  the  feelings  of  women, 
whose  ordinary  feelings  are  so  much  more  acute 
than  those  of  men  ;  what  must  be  their  feelings  in 
case  of  neglect  in  illness,  and  especially  if  the  neg- 
lect come  from  the  husband  !  Your  own  heart  will, 
I  hope,  tell  you  what  those  feelings  must  be,  and  will 
spare  me  the  vain  attempt  to  describe  them ;  and,  if 
it  do  thus  instruct  you,  you  will  want  no  arguments 
from  me  to  induce  you,  at  such  a  season,  to  prove 
the  sincerity  of  your  affection  by  every  kind  word 
and  kind  act  that  your  mind  can  suggest.  This  is 
the  time  to  try  you ;  and  be  assured,  that  the  im- 
pression left  on  her  mind  now  will  be  the  true  and 
lasting  impression  ;  and,  if  it  be  good,  will  be  a 
better  prescvative  against  her  being  jealous,  than 
ten  thousand  of  your  professions  ten  thousand  times 
repeated.  In  such  a  case,  you  ought  to  spare  no 
expense  that  you  can  possibly  afford ;  you  ought  to 
neglect  nothing  that  your  means  will  enable  you  to 
do;  for,  what  is  the  use  of  money  if  it  be  not 
to  be  expended  in  this  case?  But,  more  than  all 
the  rest,  is  your  own  '^sonal  attention.  This  is 
the  valuable  thing ;  this  is  the  great  balm  to  the 
sufferer,  and,  it  is  efficacious  in  proportion  as  it  is 
proved  to  be  sincere-  Leave  nothing  to  other  hands 
that  you  can  do  yourself;  the  mind  has  a  great  deal 
to  do  in  all  the  ailments  of  the  body,  and,  bear  in 
mind,  that,  whatever  be  the  event,  you  have  a  more 
than  ample  reward.  I  cannot  press  this  point  too 
strongly  upon  you ;  the  bed  of  sickness  presents  no 
charms,  no  allurements,  and  women  know  this  well; 
they  watch,  in  such  a  case,  your  every  word  and 
every  look :  and  now  it  is  that  their  confidence  is 
secured,  or  their  suspicions  excited,  for  life. 

198.  In  conclusion  of  these  remarks,  as  to  jea- 
lousy in  a  wife,  I  cannot  help  expressing  my  abhor- 
rence of  those  husbands  who  treat  it  as  a  matter  for 
ridicule.  To  be  sure,  infidelity  in  a  man  is  less  hei- 
nous than  infidelity  in  the  wife ;  but  still,  is  the 
marriage  vow  nothing?  Is  a  promise  solemnly j 
made  before  God,  and  in  the  face  of  the  world,  no- 


[Letter    I    ^^'l 


TO  A  husband; 


155 


t ' 


>f  women, 

lore  acute 

feelings  in 

if  the  neg- 

heart  will, 

be,  and  will 

sm ;  and,  if 

arguments 

1,  to  prove 

kind  word 

3t.    This  is 

tiat  the  im- 

hetrue  and 

I,  will  be  a 

ealous,  than 

usand  times 

to  spare  no 

fOVL  ought  to 

nable  you  to 

if  it  be  not 

fore  than  all 

on.    This  is 

balm  to  the 

.ion  as  it  is 

)  other  hands 

s  a  great  deal 

and,  bear  in 

have  a  more 

his  point  too 

s  presents  no 

ow  this  well; 

ry  word  and 

confidence  is 

life. 

s,  as  to  jea- 

g  my  abhor- 

a  matter  for 
bnislessbei- 
k  still,  is  the 
tse  solemnly 

le  world,  no- 


thing?   Is  a  violation  of  a  contract,  and  that,  too, 
with  a  feebler  party,  nothing  of  which  a  man  ought 
to  be  ashamed  ?    But,  besides  all  these,  there  is  the 
cruelty.    First,  you  win,  by  great  pains,  perhaps, 
a  woman's  affections ;  then,  in  order  to  get  posses- 
sion of  her  person,  you  marry  her  j  then,  after  en- 
joyment, you  break  your  vow,  you  bring  upon  her 
the  mixed  pity  and  jeers  of  the  world,  and  thus 
you  leave  her  to  weep  out  her  life.    Murder  is  more 
horrible  than  this,  to  be  sure,  and  the  criminal  law, 
which  punishes  divers  other  crimes,  does  not  reach 
this ;  but,  in  the  eye  of  reason  and  of  a  moral  jus- 
tice, it  is  surpassed  by  very  few  of  those  crimes. 
Passion  may  be  pleaded,  and  so  it  may,  for  almost 
every  other  crime  of  which  man  can  be  guilty.    It  is 
not  a  crime  against  nature  ;  nor  are  any  of  these 
which  men  commit  in  consequence  of  their  necessi- 
ties.   The  temptation  is  ^eai  ;  and  is  not  the  temp- 
tation great  when  men  thieve  or  rob  ?  In  short,  there 
is  no  excuse  for  an  act  so  unjust  and  so  cruel,  and  the 
world  is  just  as  to  this  matter ;  for,  I  have  always 
observed,  that,  however  men  are  disposed  to  laugh 
at  these  breaches  of  vows  in  men,  the  act  seldom 
fails  to  produce  injury  to  the  whole  character ;  it 
leaves  after  all  the  joking,  a  stain,  and,  amongst  those 
who  depend  on  character  for  a  livelihood,  it  often 
produces  ruin.    At  the  very  least,  it  makes  an  un- 
happy and  wrangling  family ;   it  makes  children 
despise  or  hate  their  fathers,  and  it  affords  an  exam- 
ple at  the  thought  of  the  ultimate  consequences  of 
which  a  father  ought  to  shudder.    In  such  a  case, 
children  will  take  part,  and  thejr  ought  to  take  part, 
with  the  mother:  she  is  the  injured  party;  the 
shame  brought  upon  her  attaches,  in  part,  to  them: 
they  feel  the  injustice  done  them ;  and,  if  such  a 
Iman,  when  the  grey  hairs,  and  tottering  knees,  and 
Ipiping  voice  come,  look  around  him  in  vain  for  a 
Iprop,  let  him,  at  last,  be  just,  and  acknowledge  that 
|he  has  now  the  due  reward  of  his  own  wanton  cruel- 
ty to  one  whom  he  had  solemnly  sworn  tj.i  love 
Wd  to  cherish  to  the  last  hour  of  liis  or  her  life. 


t  1 

■    » 

"I 


i  ■■  [ 

^     i 

:  ■         :  1 

1    ' 

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•i    '' 

'if 

4     , 

:tj: 


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ii-'*i-  iii 


H   '  i 


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h 


I 


COBBETT^S  ADVICB 


[Lettei 


199.  But,  bad  as  is  conjugal  infidelity  in  the  hus' 
band,  it  is  much  worse  in  the  wife:  a  proposition 
that  it  is  necessary  to  maintain  by  the  force  of  rea- 
son, because  ths  women,  as  a  sisterhood,  are  prone  to 
deny  the  truth  of  it.  They  say  that  adultery  is 
adultery,  in  men  as  well  as  in  them ;  and  that,  there- 
fore, the  offence  is  as  great  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other.  As  a  crime,  abstractedly  considered,  it  cer- 
tainly is ;  but,  as  to  the  consequences,  there  is  a  wide 
difference.  In  both  cases,  there  is  the  breach  of  a 
solemn  vow,  but,  there  is  this  great  distinction,  that 
the  husband,  by  his  breach  of  that  vow,  only  brings 
shame  upon  his  wife  and  family  j  whereas  the  wife, 
by  a  breach  of  her  vow,  may  bring  the  husband  a 
spurious  offspring  to  maintain,  and  may  bring  that 
spurious  offspring  to  rob  of  their  fortunes,  and  in 
some  cases  of  their  bread,  her  legitimate  children. 
So  that  here  is  a  great  and  evident  wrong  done  to 
numerous  parties,  besides  the  deeper  disgrace  inflict- 
ed in  this  case  than  in  the  other. 

200.  And  why  is  the  disgrace  creeper?  Because 
here  is  a  total  want  of  delicacy ;  here  is,  in  fact, 
prostitution;  here  is  grossness  and  filthiness  of 
mind  j  here  is  every  thing  that  argues  baseness  of 
character.  Women  should  be,  and  they  are,  except 
in  few  instances,  far  more  reserved  and  more  delicate 
than  men ;  nature  bids  them  be  such ;  the  habits  and 
manners  of  the  world  confirm  this  precept  of  nature; 
and  therefore,  when  they  commit  this  offence,  they 
excite  loathing,  as  well  as  call  for  reprobation.  In 
the  countries  where  a  plurality  of  wives  is  permitted, 
there  is  no  plurality  of  husbands.  It  is  there  thought 
not  at  all  indelicate  for  a  man  to  have  several  wives; 
but  the  bare,  thought  of  a  woman  having  two  1m- 
bg,nds  would  excite  horror.  The  widows  of  the 
Hindoos  burn  themselves  in  the  pile  that  consumes 
their  husbands ;  but  the  Hindoo  widowers  do  not 
dispose  of  themselves  in  this  way.  The  widows 
devote  their  bodies  to  complete  destruction,  lest,  even 
after  the  death  of  their  husbands,  they  should  be 
tempted  to  connect  themselves  with  other  men ;  and 


[Letter  i  IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


157 


lered,  it  cer- 


inction,  that 


r?    Because 


thouffh  thi&  is  carrying  delicacy  far  indeed,  it  reads 
to  Christian  wives  a  lesson  not  unworthy  of  their 
attention  ;  for,  though  it  is  not  desirable  that  their 
bodies  should  be  turned  into  handfuls  of  ashes,  even 
(hat  transmutation  were  preferable  to  that  infidelity 
which  fixes  the  brand  of  shame  on  the  cheeks  of 
their  parents,  their  children,  and  on  those  of  all  who 
eveir  called  them  friend. 

201.  For  these  plain  and  forcible  reasons  it  is  that 
this  species  of  offence  is  far  more  heinous  in  the 
wife  than  in  the  husband ;  and  the  people  of  all  ci- 
vilized countries  act  upon  this  settled  distinction. 
Men  who  have  been  guilty  of  the  offence  are  not  cut 
off  from  society,  brt  women  who  have  been  guilty 
of  it  are ;  for,  as  we  all  know  well,  no  woman,  mar- 
ried or  single,  of  fair  reputation,  will  risk  that  re- 
putation by  being  ever  seen,  if  she  can  avoid  it,  with 
a  woman  who  has  ever,  at  any  time,  committed  this 
oifeiice,  which  contains  in  itself,  and  by  universal 
award,  a  sentence  of  social  excommunication  for 
life. 

202.  If,  therefore,  it  be  the  duty  of  the  husband 
to  adhere  strictly  to  his  marriage  vow :  if  his  breach 
of  that  vow  be  naturally  attended  with  the  fatal  con- 
sequences above  described :  how  much  more  impe- 
rative is  the  duty  on  the  wife  to  avoid,  even  the 
semblance  of  a  deviation  from  that  vow !  If  the 
man's  misconduct,  in  this  respect,  bring  shame  on  so 
many  innocent  parties,  what  shame,  what  dishonour, 
what  misery  follow  such  misconduct  in  the  wife ! 
Her  parents,  those  of  her  husband,  all  her  relations, 
and  all  her  friends,  share  in  her  dishonour.  And 
her  chUdTen!  how  is  she  to  make  atonement  to 
them!  They  are  commanded  to  honour  their  father 
and  their  mother ;  but  not  such  a  mother  as  this, 
who,  on  the  contrary,  has  no  claim  to  any  thing 
from  them  but  hatred,  abhorrence,  and  execration. 
It  is  she  who  has  broken  the  ties  of  nature  ;  she  has 
dishonoured  her  own  offspring ;  she  has  fixed  a  mark 
of  reproach  on  those  who  once  made  a  part  of  her 
own  body :  nature  shuts  her  out  of  the  pale  of  its 

H 


r 


•     ft 


d 

•   ■   f 


1,4, 


■\¥ 


W 


A 


158 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


ijii 


4' 


influence,  and  condemns  her  to  the  just  detestatir  n 
of  those  whom  it  formerly  bade  love  her  as  their 
own  life. 

203.  But  as  the  crime  is  so  much  more  heinous, 
and  the  punishment  so  much  more  severe,  in  the 
case  of  the  wife  than  it  is  in  the  case  of  tht  husband, 
so  the  caution  ought  to  be  greater  in  makir.g  the  ac- 
cusation, or  entertaining  the  suspicion.  Men  ought 
to  be  very  slow  in  entertaining  such  suspicions: 
they  ought  to  have  clear  proof  before  they  can  sus- 
pect :  a  proneness  to  sucn  suspicions  is  a  very  un- 
fortunate turn  of  the  mind ;  and,  indeed,  few  charac- 
ters are  more  despicable  than  that  oi  ^  jealoim-headcd 
husband  ;  rather  than  be  tied  to  the  whims  of  one 
of  whom,  an  innocent  woman  of  spirit  would  earn 
her  bread  over  the  washing-tub,  or  with  a  hay-fork, 
or  a  reap-hook.  With  such  a  man  there  can  be  no 
peace;  and,  as  far  as  children  are  concerned,  the 
false  accusation  is  nearly  equal  to  the  reality.  When 
a  wife  discovers  her  jealousy,  she  merely  imputes  to 
her  husband  inconstancy  and  breach  of  his  marriage 
vow ;  but  jealousy  in  him  imputes  to  her  a  willing- 
ness to  palm  a  spurious  offspring  upon  him,  and  upon 
her  legitimate  fchildren,  as  robbers  of  their  birth- 
right; and,  besides  this,  grossness,  filthiness,  and 
prostitution.  She  imputes  to  him  injustice  and  cru- 
elty :  but  he  imputes  to  her  that  which  banishes  her 
from  society ;  that  which  cuts  her  off  for  life  from 
every  thing  connected  with  female  purity;  that 
which  brands  her  with  infamy  to  her  latest  breath. 

204.  Very  slow,  therefore,  ought  a  husband  to  be 
in  entertaining  even  the  thought  of  this  crime  in  his 
wife.  He  ought  to  be  quite  sure  before  he  take  tlie 
smallest  step  in  the  way  of  accusation ;  but  if  un- 
happily he  have  the  proof,  no  consideration  on  earth 
ought  to  induce  him  to  cohabit  with  her  one  moment 
longer.  Jealous  husbands  are  not  despicable  because 
they  have  grounds  ;  but  because  they  Imve  not 
frrminds ;  and  this  is  generally  the  case.  When 
they  have  grounds,  their  own  honour  commands 
them  to  cast  off  the  object,  as  they  would  cut  out  a 


j»i 


[Letter 

detestatir  n 
ir  as  their 


IV.] 


TO  A    HUSBAND. 


159 


com  or  a  cancer.    It  is  not  tlie  jealousy  in  itself, 
which  is  despicable;  but  the  continuing  to  live  in 
that  state.    It  is  no  dishonour  to  be  a  slave  in  Al- 
■e  heinous     I     giers,  for  instance;  the  dishonour  begins  only  where 


3re,  in  the 
It  husband, 
tir.g  the  ac- 
Men  ought 
suspicions: 
By  can  sus- 
s  a  very  un- 
few  charac- 
ilous-headed 
lims  of  one 
would  earn 
a  hay-fork, 
re  can  be  no 
icerned,  the 
lity.   When 
y  imputes  to 
lis  marriage 
er  a  willing- 
m,  and  upon 
their  birth- 
ihiness,  and 
Itice  and  cru- 
lanishes  her 
for  life  from 
lurity;   that 
^test  breath. 
..sband  to  be 
crime  in  his 
he  take  the 
;  but  if  un- 
ion on  earth 
[one  moment 
:able  because 
y  have  not 
.se.     When 
commands 
lid  cut  out  a 


you  remain  a  slave  voluntarily  ;  it  begins  the  mo- 
ment you  can  escape  from  slavery,  and  do  not.  It 
is  despicable  unjustly  to  be  jealous  of  your  wife ; 
but  it  is  infamy  to  cohabit  with  her  if  you  know  her 
to  be  guilty. 

205.  I  shall  be  told  that  the  law  compels  you  to 
live  with  her,  unless  you  be  rich  enough  to  disen- 
gage yourself  from  her ;  but  the  law  does  not  com- 
pel you  to  remain  in  the  same  country  with  her ; 
and,  if  a  man  have  no  other  means  of  ridding  him- 
Belf  of  such  a  curse,  what  are  moi  ntains  or  seas  or 
traverse  ?  And  what  is  the  risk  (if  such  there  be) 
of  exchanging  a  life  of  bodily  ease  for  a  life  of  la- 
bour? What  are  these,  and  numerous  oth^r  ills  Of 
they  happen)  superadded  ?  Nay,  what  is  death  itself, 
compared  with  the  baseness,  the  infamy,  the  nei  e)- 
ceasing  shame  and  reproach  of  living  under  the  same 
roof  with  a  prostituted  woman,  and  calling:  hi  r  your 
vsife  ?  But,  there  are  children^  and  what  are  to  be- 
come of  these  ?  To  be  taken  away  from  the  pro- 
stitute, to  be  sure ;  and  this  is  a  duty  which  you  owe 
to  them :  the  sooner  they  forget  her  the  better,  and 
the  farther  they  are  from  her,  the  sooner  that  will 
be.  There  is  no  excuse  for  continuing  to  live  with 
an  adultress ;  no  inconvenience,  no  loss,  no  suffering, 
ought  to  deter  a  man  from  delivering  himself  from 
such  a  state  of  filthy  infamy ;  and  to  suffer  his  chil- 
dren to  remain  in  such  a  state,  is  a  crime  that  hardly 
admits  of  adequate  description  t  b.  jail  is  paradise 
compared  with  such  a  life,  and  ne  who  can  endure 
this  latter,  from  the  fear  of  encountering  hardship, 
is  a  wretch  too  despicable  to  go  by  the  name  of  man. 

206.  But,  now,  all  this  supposes,  that  the  husband 
has  wdl  and  truly  acted  his  part!  It  supposes,  not 
only  that  he  has  been  faithful ;  but,  that  he  has  not, 
m  any  way,  been  the  cause  of  temptation  to  the  wife 
to  be  unfaithful.    If  he  have  been  cold  and  neglect- 


A\ 


•   1 


I'-) 


f  ■ 

■■< 
!  ' 


\  ' 


Pi 
m 


m 


it  ■■^''  '111 


;(■      ■-      .,:':!        '. 


ik     ,     ';^. 


IJi 


i  y^:; 
:;*?,!■ 


iiin 


'  ^  :l 


.|l 


^*lltil: 


.,ii;il|!ll'' 


8  n  '» 


te:|T  ii,,., 


■.11 


Bljijii 


M.'l  ■       ', 


I  il 


160 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


fill ;  if  he  have  led  a  life  of  irregularity :  if  he  have 
proved  to  her  that  home  was  not  his  delight ;  if  he 
have  made  his  house  the  place  of  resort  for  loose 
companions ;  if  he  have  given  rise  to  a  taste  for 
visiting,  junketting,  parties  of  pleasure  and  gaiety; 
if  he  have  introduced  the  habit  of  indulging  in  what 
are  called  "  innocent  freedoms  ;"  if  these,  or  any  of 
these,  the^aMtt  is  his,  he  must  take  the  consequences, 
and  he  has  no  right  to  inflict  punishment  on  the  of- 
fender, the  offence  being  in  fact  of  his  own  creating. 
The  laws  of  God,  as  well  as  the  laws  of  man,  have 
given  him  all  power  in  this  respect :  it  is  for  him  to 
use  that  power  for  the  honour  of  his  wife  as  well  as 
for  that  of  himself:  if  he  neglect  to  use  it,  all  the 
consequences  ought  to  fall  on  him ;  and,  as  far  as  my 
observation  has  gone,  in  nineteen  out  of  twenty 
cases  of  infidelity  in  wives,  the  crimes  have  been 
fairly  ascribable  to  tJie  husbands.  Folly  or  miscon- 
duct in  the  husband,  cannot,  indeed,  justify  or  even 
palliate  infidelity  in  the  wife,  whose  very  nature 
ought  to  make  her  recoil  at  the  thought  of  the  of- 
fence ;  but  it  may,  at  the  same  time,  deprive  him  of 
the  riffht  of  inflicting  punishment  on  her :  her  kin- 
dred, Tier  children,  and  the  world,  will  justly  hold 
her  in  abhorrence :  but  the  husband  must  hold  his 
peace. 

207.  "  Innocent  freedoms .'"  I  know  of  none  that  a 
wife  can  indulge  in.  The  words,  as  applied  to  the 
demeanour  of  a  married  woman,  or  even  a  single 
one,  imply  a  contradiction.  For  freedom,  thus  used, 
means  an  exemption  or  departure  from  the  strict 
rides  of  female  reserve  ;  and,  I  do  not  see  how  this 
can  be  innocent.  It  may  not  amount  to  crime,  in- 
deed ;  but,  still  it  is  not  innocent;  and  the  use  of  the 
phrase  is  dangerous.  If  it  had  been  my  fortune  to 
be  yoked  to  a  person,  who  liked  "  innocent  freedoms," 
I  should  have  unyoked  myself  in  a  very  short  time. 
But,  to  say  the  truth,  it  is  all  a  man's  own  fault.  If 
he  have  not  sense  and  influence  enough  to  prevent 
*'  innocent  freedoms,"  even  before  marriage,  he  will 
do  well  to  let  the  thing  alone,  and  leave  wives  to  be 


[Letter 

if  he  have 
ght  *,  if  he 
t  for  loose 
a  taste  for 
ind  gaiety ; 
iiig  in  what 
,  or  any  of 
iseqiiences, 
t  on  the  of- 
vn  creating. 
'  man,  have 
s  for  him  to 
fe  as  well  as 
se  it,  all  the 
as  far  as  my 
t  of  twenty 
3  have  been 
f  or  miscon- 
tify  or  even 
very  nature 
ht  of  the  of- 
jrive  him  of 
3r:  her  kin- 
l  justly  hold 
ist  hold  his 

'  none  that  a 
)plied  to  the 
ven  a  single 
in,  thus  used, 
Dm  the  strict 
see  how  this 
to  crime,  in- 
heuseofthe 
ly  fortune  to 
It  freedoms," 
y  short  time, 
wn  fault.   If 
h  to  prevent 
riage,  he  will 
e  wives  to  be 


IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


161 


managed  by  those  who  have.  But,  men  will  talk  to 
your  wife,  and  flatter  her.  To  be  sure  they  will,  if 
she  be  young  and  pretty ;  and  would  you  go  and  pull 
her  away  from  them?  O  no,  by  no  means ;  but  you 
must  have  very  little  sense,  or  must  have  made  very 
little  use  of  it,  if  her  manner  do  not  soon  convince 
them  that  they  employ  their  flattery  in  vain. 

208.  So  much  of  a  man's  happiness  and  of  his 
efficiency  through  life  depends  upon  his  mind  being 
quite  free  from  all  anxieties  of  this  sort,  that  too 
much  care  cannot  be  taken  to  guard  against  them  ; 
and,  I  repeat,  that  the  great  preservation  of  all  is, 
the  young  couple  living  as  much  as  possible  at  home, 
and  having  as  few  visitors  as  possible.  If  they  do 
not  prefer  the  company  of  each  other  to  that  of  all 
the  world  besides ;  if  either  of  them  be  weary  of  the 
company  of  the  other ;  if  they  do  not,  when  sepa- 
rated by  business  or  any  other  cause,  think  with 
pleasure  of  the  time  of  meeting  again,  it  is  a  bad 
omen.  Pursue  this  course  when  young,  and  the 
very  thought  of  jealousy  will  never  come  into  your 
mind  j  and,  if  you  do  pursue  it,  and  show  by  your 
deeds  that  you  value  your  wife  as  you  do  your  own 
life,  you  must  be  pretty  nearly  an  idiot,  if  she  do  not 
think  you  to  be  the  wisest  man  in  the  world.  The 
best  man  she  will  be  sure  to  think  you,  and  she  will 
never  forgive  any  one  that  calls  your  talents  or  your 
wisdom  in  question. 

209.  Now,  will  you  say  that,  if  to  be  happy,  nay, 
if  to  avoid  misery  and  ruin  in  the  married  state,  re- 
quires all  these  precautions,  all  these  cares,  to  fail  to 
any  extent  in  any  of  which  is  to  bring  down  on  a 
man's  head  such  fearful  consequences;  will  you  say 
that,  if  this  be  the  case,  it  is  better  to  remain  single  7 
If  you  should  say  this,  it  is  my  business  to  snow 
that  you  are  in  error.  For,  in  the  first  place,  it  is 
against  nature  to  suppose  that  children  can  cease  to 
be  born ;  they  must  and  will  come ;  and  then  it  fol- 
lows, that  they  must  come  by  promiscuous  inter- 
course, or  by  particular  connexion.  The  former  no- 
body will  contend  for,  seeing  that  it  would  put  us, 

14* 


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1  '  ;  ; 

ill' 

162 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


in  this  respect,  on  a  level  with  the  brute  creation. 
Then,  as  the  connexion  is  to  be  particular,  it  must 
be  during  pleasure,  or  for  the  join^  lives  of  the  par- 
ties. The  former  would  seldom  hold  for  any  length 
of  time :  the  tie  would  seldom  be  durable,  and  it 
would  be  feeble  on  account  of  its  uncertain  duration. 
Therefore,  to  be  d^  father,  with  all  the  lasting  andde- 
lightful  ties  attached  to  the  name,  you  must  first  be 
a  husband ;  and  there  are  very  few  men  in  the  world 
who  do  not,  first  or  last,  desire  to  he  fathers.  If  it  be 
said,  that  marriage  ought  not  to  be  for  life,  but  that 
its  duration  ought  to  be  subject  to  the  will,  the  mu- 
tual will  at  least,  of  the  parties ;  the  answer  is,  that 
it  would  seldom  be  of  long  duration.  Every  trifling 
dispute  would  lead  to  a  separation ;  a  hasty  word 
would  be  enough.  Knowing  that  the  engagement  is 
for  life,  prevents  disputes  too ;  it  checks  anger  in  its 
beginnings.  Put  a  rigging  horse  into  a  field  with  a 
weak  fence,  and  with  captivating  pasture  on  the 
other  side,  and  he  is  continually  trying  to  get  out ; 
but,  let  the  field  be  walled  round,  he  makes  the  best 
of  his  hard  fare,  and  divides  his  time  between  gra- 
zing and  sleeping.  Besides,  there  could  be  no  fami- 
lies, no  assemblages  of  persons  worthy  of  that  name; 
all  would  be  confusion  and  indescribable  intermix- 
ture :  the  names  of  brother  and  sister  would  hardly 
have  a  meaning ;  and,  therefore,  there  must  be  mar- 
riage, or  there  can  be  nothing  worthy  of  the  name 
of  family  or  of  father. 

210.  The  cares  and  trembles  of  the  married  life 
are  many ;  but,  are  those  of  the  single  life  few? 
Take  the^rmer,  and  it  is  nearly  the  same  with  the 
tradesman ;  but,  take  the  farmer,  for  instance,  and 
let  him,  at  the  age  Of  twenty-five,  go  into  business 
unmarried.  See  his  maid  servants,  probably  rivals 
for  his  smiles,  but  certainly  rivals  in  the  charitable 
distribution  of  his  victuals  and  drink  amongst  those 
of  their  own  rank :  behold  their  guardianship  of  his 
pork-tub,  his  bacon  rack,  his  butter,  cheese,  milk, 
poultry,  eggs,  and  all  the  rest  of  it :  look  at  their 
care  of  all  his  household  stuff,  his  blankets,  sheets, 


[Letter    I    IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBANP. 


163 


•!U 


)  creation, 
r,  it  must 
)fthe  par- 
any  length 
3le,  and  it 
a  duration, 
ing  and  de  • 
ast  first  be 
1  the  world 
TS.  If  it  be 
fe,  but  that 
ill,  the  mu- 
«rer  is,  that 
rery  trifling 
hasty  word 
gagementis 
anger  in  its 
field  with  a 
ure  on  the 
to  get  out; 
kes  the  best 
etw^een  gra- 
be  no  fami- 
f  that  name; 
le  intermix- 
rould  hardly 
nust  be  mar- 
)f  the  name 

married  life 
le  life  fewl 
ime  with  the 
istance,  and 
nto  business 
5bably  rivals 
le  charitable 
nongst  those 
anshipofhis 
iheese,  milk, 
ook  at  their 
ikets,  sheets, 


pillow-cases,  towels,  knives  and  forks,  and  particu- 
larly of  his  crockery  ware,  c^  which  last  they  will 
hardly  exceed  a  single  cart-load  of  broken  bits  in  the 
year.  And,  how  nicely  they  will  get  up  and  take 
care  of  his  linen  and  other  wearing  apparel,  and  al- 
ways have  it  ready  for  him  without  his  thinking 
about  it !  If  absent  at  market,  or  especially  at  a  dis- 
tant fair,  how  scrupulously  they  will  keep  all  their 
cronies  out  of  his  house,  and  what  special  care  they 
will  take  of  his  cellar,  more  particularly  that  which 
holds  the  strong  beer !  And  his  groceries  and  his 
spirits  and  his  wine  (for  a  bachelor  can  afford  it), 
how  safe  these  will  all  be !  Sachelors  have  not,  in- 
deed, any  more  than  married  men,  a  security  for 
health;  but  if  our  young  farmer  be  sick,  there  are 
his  couple  of  maids  to  take  care  of  him,  to  adminis- 
ter his  medicine,  and  to  perform  for  him  all  other 
nameless  offices,  which  in  such  a  case  are  required ; 
and  what  is  more,  take  care  of  every  thing  down 
stairs  at  the  same  time,  especially  his  desk  with  the 
money  in  it !  Never  will  they,  good-humoured  girls 
as  they  are,  scold  him  for  coming  home  too  late ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  like  him  the  better  for  it ;  and 
if  he  have  drunk  a  little  too  much,  so  much  the  bet- 
ter, for  then  he  will  sleep  late  in  the  morning,  and 
when  he  comes  out  at  last,  he  will  find  that  his  men 
have  been  so  Imrd  at  work,  and  that  all  his  animals 
have  been  taken  such  good  care  of! 

211.  Nonsense!  a  bare  glance  at  the  thing  shows, 
that  a  farmer,  above  all  men  living,  can  never  carry 
on  his  affairs  with  profit  without  a  wife,  or  a  mother, 
or  a  daughter,  or  some  such  person ;  and  mother  and 
daughter  imply  matrimony.  To  be  sure,  a  wife 
would  cause  some  trouble,  perhaps,  to  this  young 
man.  There  might  be  the  midwife  and  nurse  to  gal- 
lop after  at  midnight;  there  might  be,  and  there 
ought  to  be,  if  called  for,  a  little  complaining  of  late 
hours ;  but,  good  God !  what  are  these,  and  all  the 
other  troubles  that  could  attend  a  married  life ;  what 
are  they,  compared  to  the  one  single  circumstance 
of  the  want  of  a  wife  at  your  bedside  during  one 


.IV  i 


r-^ 


'     .  i   I 


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''Ii|i;l 


iffl!:-"  ' 


1';|!Mi 


164 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


single  night  of  illness !  A  nurse !  what  is  a  nurse  to 
do  for  you  ?  "Will  she  do  the  things  that  a  wife  will 
do  ?  Will  she  watch  your  looks  and  your  half-utter- 
ed wishes?  Will  she  use  the  urgent  persuasions  so 
often  necessary  to  save  life  in  such  cases  ?  Will  she, 
by  her  acts,  convince  you  that  it  is  not  a  toil,  but  a 
delight,  to  break  her  rest  for  your  sake  ?  In  short, 
now  it  is  that  you  find  that  what  the  women  them- 
selves say  is  strictly  true,  namely,  that  without  wives, 
Tnen  are  poor  helpless  mortals. 

212.  As  to  the  expense^  there  is  no  comparison 
between  that  of  a  woman  servant  and  a  wife,  in  the 
house  of  a  farmer  or  a  tradesman.  The  wages  of  the 
former  is  not  the  expense ;  it  is  the  want  of  a  com- 
mon interest  with  you,  and  this  you  can  obtain  in  no 
one  but  a  wife.  But  there  are  the  children.  I,  lor 
my  part,  firmly  believe  that  a  farmer,  married  at 
twenty-five,  and  having  ten  children  during  the 
first  ten  years,  would  be  able  to  save  more  money 
during  these  years,  than  a  bachelor,  of  the  same  age, 
would  be  able  to  save,  on  the  same  farm,  in  a  like 
space  of  time,  he  keeping  only  one  maid  servant. 
One  single  fit  of  illness,  of  two  months'  duration, 
might  sweep  away  more  than  all  the  children  would 
cost  in  the  whole  ten  years,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
continual  waste  and  pillage,  and  the  idleness,  going 
on  from  the  first  day  of  the  ten  years  to  the  last. 

213.  Besides,  is  the  money  all  ?  What  a  life  to 
lead  !  No  one  to  talk  to  without  going  from  home, 
or  without  getting  some  one  to  come  to  you ;  no 
friend  to  sit  and  talk  to  :  pleasant  evenings  to  pass ! ! 
Nobody  to  share  with  you  your  sorrows  or  your  plea- 
sures :  no  soul  having  a  common  interest  with  you : 
all  around  you  taking  care  of  themselves,  and  no 
care  of  you:  no  one  to  cheer  you  in  moments  of 
depression :  to  say  all  in  a  word,  no  one  to  lace  you, 
and  no  prospect  of  ever  seeing  any  such  one  to  the 
end  of  your  days.  For,  as  to  parents  and  brethren, 
if  you  have  them,  they  have  other  and  very  differ- 
ent ties ;  and,  however  laudable  your  feelings  as  son 
and  brother,  those  feelings  are  of  a  different  charac- 


[Letter 

a  nurse  to 
a  wife  will 
half-utter- 
juasions  so 
?  Will  she, 
1  toil,  but  a 
In  short, 
men  them- 
;hout  wives, 

comparison 
wife,  in  the 
wages  of  the 
lit  of  a  com- 
obtain  in  no 
Iren.    I,  lor 
,  married  at 
during  the 
more  money 
he  same  age, 
m,  in  a  like 
aid  servant, 
is'  duration, 
ildren  would 
thing  of  the 
eness,  going 
D  the  last. 
VYioX  a  life  to 
from  home, 
to  you ;  no 
igs  to  pass ! ! 
or  your  plea- 
(St  with  you : 
;lves,  and  no 
moments  of 
e  to  love  you, 
3h  one  to  the 
and  brethren, 
d  very  differ- 
jelings  as  son 
ferent  charac- 


IV.J 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


165 


% 


ter.  Then  as  to  gratifications,  from  which  you  will 
hardly  abstain  altogether,  are  they  generally  of  lit- 
tle expense  ?  and  are  they  attended  with  no  trouble, 
no  vexation,  no  disappointment,  no  jealousy  even, 
and  are  they  never  followed  by  shame  or  remorse  ? 

214.  It  does  very  well  in  bantering  songs,  to  say 
that  the  bachelor's  life  is  "  devoid  of  care^  My  ob- 
servation tells  me  the  contrary,  and  reason  concurs, 
in  this  regard,  with  experience.  The  bachelor  has 
no  one  on  whom  he  can  in  all  cases  rely.  When  he 
quits  his  home,  he  carries  with  him  cares  that  are 
unknown  to  the  married  man.  If,  indeed,  like  the 
common  soldier,  he  have  merely  a  lodging-place, 
and  a  bundle  of  clothes,  given  in  charge  to  some 
one,  he  may  be  at  his  ease ;  but  if  he  possess  any 
thing  of  a  home,  he  is  never  sure  of  its  safety ;  and 
this  uncertainty  is  a  great  enemy  to  cheerfulness. 
And  as  to  efficiency  in  life,  how  is  the  bachelor  to 
equal  the  married  man  ?  In  the  case  of  farmers 
and  tradesmen,  the  latter  have  so  clearly  the  advan- 
tage over  the  former,  that  one  need  hardly  insist 
upon  the  point ;  but  it  is,  and  must  be,  the  same  in 
all  the  situations  of  life.  To  provide  for  a  wife  and 
children  is  the  greatest  of  all  possible  spurs  to  exer- 
tion. Many  a  man,  naturally  prone  to  idleness  has 
become  active  and  industrious  when  he  saw  child- 
ren growing  up  about  him ;  many  a  dull  sluggard 
has  become,  if  not  a  bright  man,  at  least  a  bustling 
man,  when  roused  to  exertion  by  his  love.  Dry  den's 
account  of  the  change  wrought  in  Cymon,  is  only  a 
strong  case  of  the  kind.  And,  indeed,  if  a  man  will 
not  exert  himself  for  the  sake  of  a  wife  and  children, 
he  can  have  no  exertion  in  him ;  or  he  must  be  deaf 
to  all  the  dictates  of  natur^. 

215.  Perhaps  the  world  never  exhibited  a  more 
striking  proof  of  the  truth  of  this  doctrine  than  that 
which  is  exhibited  in  me ;  and  I  am  sure  that  every 
one  will  say,  without  any  hesitation,  that  a  fourth 
part  of  the  labours,  I  have  performed,  never  would 
have  been  performed,  if  I  had  not  been  a  warried 
nmn.    In  the  first  place,  they  could  not ;  for  I  should, 


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t£a:!ii|pi|| 


166 


C0BBETT9   ADVICE 


LLetter 


all  the  early  part  of  my  life,  have  been  rambling  and 
roving  about  as  most  bachelors  are.  I  should  have 
had  no  home  that  I  cared  a  stravs^  about,  and  should 
have  wasted  the  far  greater  part  of  my  time.  The 
great  affair  of  home  being  settled,  having  the  home 
secured,  I  had  leisure  to  employ  my  mind  on  things 
which  it  delighted  in.  I  got  rid  at  once  of  all  cares, 
all  anxieties^  and  had  only  to  provide  for  the  very 
moderate  wants  of  that  home.  But  the  children 
began  to  come.  They  sharpened  my  industry: 
they  spurred  me  on.  To  be  sure,  I  had  other  and 
strong  motives :  I  wrote  for  fame,  and  was  urged 
forward  by  ill-treatment,  and  by  the  desire  to  tri- 
umph over  my  enemies ;  but,  after  all,  a  very  large 
part  of  my  nearly  a  hwidred  volumes  may  be  fairly 
ascribed  to  the  wife  and  children. 

216.  I  might  have  done  something  ;  but,  perhaps, 
not  a  thousandth  part  of  what  I  have  done ;  not 
even  a  thousandth  part :  for  the  chances  are,  that  I, 
being  fond  of  a  military  life,  should  have  ended  my 
days  ten  or  twenty  years  ago,  in  consequence  of 
wounds,  or  fatigue,  or,  more  likely  in  consequence 
of  the  persecutions  of  some  haughty  and  insolent 
fool,  whom  nature  had  formed  to  black  my  shoes, 
and  whom  a  system  of  corruption  had  made  my 
commander.  Lave  came  and  rescued  me  from  this 
state  of  horrible  slavery  ;  placed  the  whole  of  my 
time  at  my  own  disposal ;  made  me  as  free  as  air ; 
removed  every  restraint  upon  the  operations  of 
my  mind,  naturally  disposed  to  communicate  its 
thoughts  to  others ;  and  gave  me,  for  my  leisure 
hours,  a  companion,  who,  though  deprived  of  all 
opportunity  of  acquiring  what  is  called  learning, 
had  so  much  good  sense,  so  much  useful  knowledge, 
was  so  innocent,  so  just  in  all  her  ways,  so  pure  in 
thought,  word  and  deed,  so  disinterested,  so  gene- 
rous, so  devoted  to  me  and  her  children,  so  free 
from  all  disguise,  and,  withal,  so  beautiful  and  so 
talkative,  and  in  a  voice  so  sweet,  so  cheering,  that  I 
must,  seeing  the  health  and  the  capacity  which  it 
had  pleased  God  to  give  me,  have  been  a  criniinal,'\i 


«)v 


LLetter    I    IV-l 


TO  A   HtSBAND. 


167 


nbling  and 
lould  have 
ind  should 
ime.    The 

the  home 
d  on  things 
of  all  cares, 
Dr  the  very 
le  children 
r  industry: 
i  other  and 

was  urged 
esire  to  tri- 
a  very  large 
lay  be  fairly 

3Ut,  perhaps, 
J  done ;  not 
3S  are,  that  1, 
ve  ended  my 
isequence  of 
consequence 
and  insolent 
5k  my  shoes, 
id  made  my 
le  from  this 
hole  of  my 
Is  free  as  air; 
perations  of 
municate  its 
r  my  leisure 
sprived  of  all 
lied  leammg^ 
\\  knowledge, 
s,  80  pure  in 
Ited,  so  gene- 
Jldren,  so  free 
mtiful  and  so 
leering,  that  I 
[city  which  it 
a  criwii'MiM^ 


I  had  done  much  less  than  that  which  I  have  done ; 
and  I  have  always  said,  that  if  my  country  feel  any 
gratitude  for  my  labours,  that  gratitude  is  due  to  her 
full  as  much  as  to  me. 

217.  "  Ca7'€|/"  What  care  have  I  known !  I  have 
been  buffetted  about  by  this  powerful  and  vindictive 
Government ;  I  have  repeatedly  had  the  fruit  of  my 
labour  snatched  away  from  me  by  it ;  but  I  had  a 
partner  that  never  frowned,  that  was  never  me- 
lancholy, that  never  was  subdued  in  spirit^  that 
never  abated  a  smile,  on  these  occasions,  that  for- 
tified me,  and  sustained  me  by  her  courageous  ex- 
ample, and  that  was  just  as  busy  and  as  zealous  in 
taking  care  of  the  remnant  as  she  had  been  in  taking 
care  of  the  whole ;  just  as  cheerful,  and  just  as  full 
of  caresses,  when  brought  down  to  a  mean  hired 
lodging,  as  when  the  mistress  of  a  fine  country 
house,  with  all  its  accompaniments ;  and,  whether 
from  her  words  or  her  looks,  no  one  could  gather 
that  she  regretted  the  change.  What  "  cares'^  have 
I  had,  then  ?  What  have  I  had  worthy  of  the  name 
of  "cares?" 

218.  And,  how  is  it  now  ?  How  is  it  when  the 
sixty-fourth  year  has  come  1  And  how  should  I  have 
been  without  this  wife  and  these  children  ?  I  might 
have  amassed  a  tolerable  heap  of  money  ;  but  what 
would  that  have  done  for  me  ?  It  might  have  hovght 
me  plenty  of  professions  of  attachment ;  plenty  of 
persons  impatient  for  my  exit  from  the  world  ;  but 
not  one  single  grain  of  sorrow,  for  any  anguish  that 
might  have  attended  my  approaching  end.  To  me, 
no  being  in  this  world  appears  so  wretched  as  an 
Old  Bachelor,  Those  circumstances,  those  changes 
in  his  person  and  in  his  mind,  which,  in  the  hus- 
j  band,  increase  rather  than  diminish  the  attentions  to 
him,  produce  all  the  want  of  feeling  attendant  on 
disgust ;  and  he  beholds,  in  the  conduct  of  the  mer- 
cenary crew  that  generally  surround  him,  little 
[besides  an  eager  desire  to  profit  from  that  event, 
Ithe  approach  of  which,  nature  makes  a  subject  of 
Isorrow  with  him. 


:f 


;   -i- 


*' 


i     i 


il'lt 


f: 


M 


'  ! 


J,tl  I 


«'; 


,,  ■•■»i!ii; 

■■■'in    L'   :  ■*!    I  .1  ■ 


168 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


219.  Before  I  quit  this  part  of  my  work,  I  cannot 
refrain  from  offering  my  opinion  with  regard  to 
what  is  due  from  husband  to  wife,  when  the  disposal 
of  his  property  comes  to  be  thought  of.  When  mar- 
riage is  an  affair  settled  by  deeds,  contracts,  and  law- 
yers, the  husband,  being  bound  beforehand,  has  really 
no  will  to  make.  But  where  he  has  a  will  to  make, 
and  a  faithful  wife  to  leave  behind  him,  it  is  his  first 
duty  to  provide  for  her  future  well-being,  to  the 
utmost  of  his  power.  If  she  brought  him  no  rmtiey^ 
she  brought  him  her  'person  ;  and  by  delivering  that 
up  to  him,  she  established  a  claim  to  his  careful  pro- 
tection of  her  to  the  end  of  her  life.  Some  men 
think,  or  act  as  if  they  thought,  that,  if  a  wifie  bring 
no  money,  and  if  the  husband  gain  money  by  his 
business  or  profession,  that  money  is  his^  and  not 
hers,  because  she  has  not  been  doing  any  of  those 
things  for  which  the  money  has  been  received.  But 
is  this  way  of  thinking  )ust  7  By  the  marriage  vow, 
the  husband  endows  tlie  wife  with  all  his  worldly 
goods  ;  and  not  a  bit  too  much  is  this,  when  she  is 
giving  him  the  command  and  possession  of  her  per- 
son. But  does  she  not  help  to  acquire  the  imyticy  ? 
Speaking,  for  instance,  of  trie  farmer  or  the  mer- 
chant, the  wife  does  not,  indeed,  go  to  plough,  or  to 
look  after  the  ploughing  and  sowing ;  she  does  not 
purchase  or  sell  the  stock ;  she  does  not  go  lo  the 
fair  or  the  market ;  but  she  enables  him  to  do  all 
these  without  injury  to  his  affairs  at  home ;  she  is 
the  guardian  of  his  propeity ;  she  preserves  what 
would  otherwise  be  lost  to  him.  The  bam  and  the 
granary,  though  they  create  nothing,  have,  in  the 
bringing  of  food  to  our  mouths,  as  much  merit  as 
the  fields  themselves.  The  wife  does  not,  indeed, 
assist  in  the  merchant's  counting-house ;  she  does 
not  go  upon  the  exchange ;  she  does  not  even  know 
what  he  is  doing;  but  she  keeps  his  house  in  order; 
she  roars  up  his  children ;  she  provides  a  scene  of 
suitable  resort  for  his  friends ;  she  insures  him  a 
constant  retreat  from  the  fatigues  of  his  affairs ;  she 


[Letter 

,  I  cannot 
regard  to 
e  disposal 
i'^hen  mar- 
i,  and  law- 
has  really 
II  to  make, 
is  his  first 
ng,  to  the 
I  no  money ^ 
vering  that 
3aref  ul  pro- 
Some  men 
I  wife  bring 
oney  by  his 
,is,  and  not 
ny  of  those 
ceived.  But 
arriage  vow, 
his  uorUly 
when  she  is 
1  of  her  per- 
!  the  money  ? 
lor  the  mer- 
jlough,  or  to 
[she  does  not 
,ot  go  10  the 
[im  to  do  all 
Lome ;  she  is 
^serves  what 
[bam  and  the 
have,  in  the 
ich  merit  as 
not,  indeed, 
je ;  she  does 
>t  even  know 
ise  in  order  ;^ 
;s  a  scene  of 
sures  him  a 
affairs ;  she 


IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


169 


makes  his  home  pleasant,  and  she  is  the  guardian  of 
his  income. 

220.  In  both  these  cases,  the  wife  helps  to  gain 
the  money;  and  in  cases  where  there  is  no  gain, 
where  the  income  is  by  descent,  or  is  fixed,  she 
helps  to  prevent  it  from  being  squandered  away.  It 
is,  therefore,  as  much  hers  as  it  is  the  husband's ; 
and  though  the  law  gives  him,  in  many  cases,  the 
power  of  keeping  her  share  from  her,  no  just  man 
will  ever  avail  himself  of  that  power.  With  regard 
to  the  tying'  up  of  widows  from  marrying  again,  I 
will  relate  'what  took  place  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  in 
America.  A  merchant,  who  had,  during  his  mar- 
ried state,  risen  from  poverty  to  very  great  riches, 
and  who  had,  nevertheless,  died  at  about  forty  years 
of  age,  left  the  whole  of  his  property  to  his  wife  for 
her  life,  and  at  her  disposal  at  her  death,  prwided 
that  she  did  not  marry.  The  consequence  was,  that 
she  took  a  husband  without  marrying^  and,  at  her 
death  (she  having  no  children,)  gave  the  whole  of 
the  property  to  the  second  husband  !  So  much  for 
fosthumoits  jealousy  ! 

221.  Where  there  are  children^  indeed,  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  husband  to  provide,  in  certain  cases, 
against  jtep-fathers,  who  are  very  prone  not  to  be 
the  most  just  and  affectionate  parents.    It  is  an  un- 
happy circumstance,  when  a  dying  father  is  com- 
pelled to  have  fears  of  this  sort.    There  is  seldom 
an  apology  to  be  offered  for  a  mother  that  will  hazard 
the  happiness  of  her  children  by  a  second  marriage. 
The  law  allows  it,  to  be  sure  ;  but  there  is,  as  Prior 
I  says,  "  something  beyond  the  letter  of  the  law."    I 
1  know  what  ticklish  ground  I  am  treading  on  here ; 
jbut,  though  it  is  as  lawfid  for  a  woman  to  take  a  se- 
cond husband  as  for  a  man  to  take  a  second  wife, 
the  cases  are  different,  and  widely  different,  in  the 
eye  of  morality  and  of  reason  ;  for,  as  adultery  in 
the  wife  is  a  greater  offence  than  adultery  in  the 
Ihusband ;  as  it  is  more  gross,  as  it  includes  prostitu- 
uion ;  so  a  second  marriage  in  the  woman  is  more 
[gross  than  in  the  man,  argues  great  deficiency  in 

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170 


COEBETT  8  ADVICE 


[Letter 


that  ddicacy,  that  innaJte  modesty,  which,  after  all, 
is  the  great  charm^  the  charm  of  charms,  in  the  fe- 
male sex.  I  do  not  like  to  hear  a  man  talk  of  hia 
first  wife,  especially  in  the  presence  of  a  second ;  but 
to  hear  a  woman  thus  talk  of  her  first  husband^  has 
never,  however  beautiful  and  good  she  might  be, 
failed  to  sink  her  in  my  estimation.  I  have,  in  such 
cases,  never  beeii  able  to  keep  out  of  my  mind  that 
conccUenation  of  ideas,  which,  in  spite  of  custom,  in 
spite  of  the  frequency  of  the  occurrence,  leave  an 
impression  deeply  disadvantageous  to  the  party ;  for, 
after  the  greatest  of  ingenuity  has  exhausted  itself 
in  the  way  of  apology,  i;  comes  to  this  at  last,  that 
the  person  has  a  second  time  undergone  that  surren- 
der, to  which  nothing  but  the  most  ardent  affection, 
could  ever  reconcile  a  chaste  and  delicate  woman. 

222.  The  usual  apologies,  that  "a  lone  woman 
"wants  a  protector;  that  she  cannot  manage  her 
"  estate  ;  that  she  cannot  carry  on  her  business  ;  that 
"  she  wants  a  home  for  her  children ;"  all  these 
apologies  are  not  worth  a  straw ;  for  what  is  the 
amount  of  them  7  Why,  that  she  surrenders  her 
person  to  secure  these  ends !  And  if  we  admit  the 
validity  of  such  apologies,  are  we  far  from  apologi- 
sing for  the  kept-mistress,  and  even  the  prostitute  ? 
Nay,  the  former  of  these  may  (if  she  confine  herself 
to  one  man)  plead  more  boldly  in  her  defence ;  and 
even  the  latter  may  plead  that  hunger,  which  knows 
no  law,  and  no  decorum,  and  no  delicacy.  These 
unhappy,  but  justly-reprobated  and  despised  parties, 
are  allowed  no  apology  at  all:  though  red\:";dto 
the  begging  of  their  bread,  the  world  grants  them  no 
excuse.  The  sentence  on  them  is :  "  You  shall  suf- 
"fer  every  hardship;  you  shall  submit  to  hunger 
"and  nakedness ;  you  shall  perish  by  the  way-side, 
"rather  than  you  shall  surrender'  your  person  to  the 
"  dishonour  of  the  female  sex?^  But  can  we,  without 
crying  injustice,  pass  this  sentence  upon  them,  and, 
at  the  same  time  hold  it  to  be  proper,  decorous,  and 
delicate,  that  widows  shall  surrender  their  perscm 


i'l  '  11., 

5       'ii^lii 


M 


[Letter  I    IV.] 


TO  A  HUSBAND. 


171 


ch,  after  all, 
IS,  in  the  fe- 
1  talk  of  his 
second ;  but 
iusband^  has 
e  might  be, 
lave,  in  such 
ly  mind  that 
if  custom,  in 
ice,  leave  an 
16  party ;  for, 
lausted  itself 
}  at  last,  that 
3  that  surren- 
lent  affection, 
ite  woman. 
,  lone  woman 
manage  her 
nisiness ;  that  I 
i;"  all  these  1 
what  is  the 
irrendei^s  her 
we  admit  the 
from  apologi- 
16  prostitute! 
confine  herself 
defence;  and 
which  knows 
cacy.    These 
spised  parties, 
jh  redn"  d  to 
rants  them  no 
Vou  shall  suf- 
nit  to  hunger 
the  way-side, 
person  to  the 
m  we,  without 
lon  them,  and, 
decorous,  and 
their  pei^sm 


for  worldly  gain^  for  the  sake  of  ease,  or  for  any 
consideration  whatsoever  1 

223.  It  is  disagreeable  to  contemplate  the  possi- 
bility of  cases  of  separation  ;  but  amongst  the  evils 
of  life,  such  have  occurred,  and  will  occur ;  and  the 
injured  parties,  while  they  are  sure  to  meet  with  the 
pity  of  all  just  persons,  must  console  themselves 
that  they  have  not  merited  their  fate.  In  the  making 
one's  choice,  no  human  foresight  or  prudence  can, 
in  all  cases,  guard  against  an  unhappy  result.  There 
is  one  species  of  husbands  to  be  occasionally  met 
with  in  all  countries,  meriting  pn  ticular  reprobation, 
and  causing  us  to  lament,  that  there  is  no  law  to 
punish  offenders  so  enormous.  There  was  a  man  in 
Pennsylvania,  apparently  a  very  amiable  young  man, 
having  a  good  estate  of  his  own,  and  marrying  a 
most  beautiful  woman  of  his  own  age,  of  rich  pa- 
rents, and  of  virtue  perfectly  spotless.  He  very 
soon  took  to  both  gaming  and  drinking  (the  last 
being  the  most  fashionable  vice  of  the  country ;)  he 
neglected  his  affairs  and  his  family ;  in  about  four 
years  spent  his  estate,  and  became  a  dependent  on 
his  wife's  father,  together  with  his  wife  and  three 
children.  Even  this  would  have  been  of  little  con- 
sequence, as  far  as  related  to  expense ;  but  he  led 
the  most  scandalous  life,  and  was  incessant  in  his 
demands  of  money  for  the  purposes  of  that  infa- 
mous life.  All  sorts  of  means  were  resorted  to  to 
reclaim  him,  and  all  in  vain ;  and  the  wretch,  avail- 
ing himself  of  the  pleading  of  his  wife's  affection, 
and  of  his  power  over  the  children  more  especially, 
continued  for  ten  or  twelve  years  to  plunder  the  pa- 
rents, and  to  disgrace  those  whom  it  was  his  boun- 
den  duty  to  assist  in  making  happy.  At  last,  going 
out  in  the  dark,  in  a  boat,  and  being  partly  drunk, 
he  went  to  the  bottom  of  the  Delaware,  and  became 
food  for  otters  or  fishes,  to  the  great  joy  of  all  who 
knew  him,  excepting  only  his  amiable  wife.  I  can 
form  an  idea  of  no  baseness  equal  to  this.  There  is 
more  of  baseness  in  this  character  than  in  that  of 
the  robber.    The  man  who  obtains  the  means  of  in- 


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172 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


dulging  in  vice,  by  robbery,  •  xposes  himself  to  the 
inflictions  of  the  law ;  bui.  ihc^jgti  he  merits  punish- 
ment, he  merits  it  less  than  .' u  base  miscreant  who 
obtains  his  means  by  his  threats  to  disgrace  his  own 
wife,  children^  and  the  wife's  parents.  The  short 
way  in  such  a  case,  is  the  best ;  set  the  wretch  at 
defiance;  resort  to  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  where- 
ever  it  will  avail  you ;  drive  him  from  your  house 
like  a  mad  dog;  for,  be  assured,  that  a  being  so  base 
and  cruel  is  never  to  be  reclaimed :  all  your  efforts 
at  persuasion  are  useless  j  his  promises  and  vows 
are  made  but  to  be  broken ;  all  your  endeavours  to 
keep  the  thing  from  the  knowledge  of  the  world, 
only  prolong  his  plundering  of  you ;  and  many  a 
tender  father  and  mother  have  been  ruined  by  such 
endeavours ;  the  whole  story  must  come  out  at  last^ 
and  it  is  better  to  come  out  before  you  be  ruined, 
than  after  your  ruin  is  completed. 

22-i.  However,  let  me  hope,  that  those  who  read 
this  work  will  always  be  secure  against  evils  like 
these ;  let  me  hope,  that  the  young  men  who  read  it 
will  abstain  from  those  vices  which  lead  to  such  fatal 
results ;  that  they  will,  before  they  utter  the  mar- 
riage vow,  duly  reflect  on  the  great  duties  that  that 
vow  imposes  on  them ;  that  they  will  repel,  from 
the  outset,  every  temptation  to  any  thing  tending  to 
give  pain  to  the  defenceless  persons  whose  love  for 
them  have  placed  them  at  their  mercy ;  and  that 
they  will  imprint  on  their  own  minds  this  truth,  that 
a  had  husband  was  never  yet  a  happy  nian. 


^:m 


Hm' 


•mm 


m 


[Letter   I     V.] 


^  TO  A  FATHER. 


in 


iseU  to  the 
:its  punish- 
creant  who 
ace  his  own 
The  short 
3  wretch  at 
1  law  where- 
your  house 
eing  so  base 
your  efforts 
;s  and  vows 
ideavours  to 
»f  the  world, 
and  many  a 
ined  by  such 
e  out  at  last^ 

I  be  ruined, 

se  who  read 
nst  evils  like 

II  who  read  it 
to  such  fatal 
ter  the  mar- 
^ties  that  that 
i  repel,  from 

ig  tending  to 
Lose  love  for 
;y ;  and  that 
is  truth,  that 


LETTER  V. 

TO  A  FATHER 


225.  "  Little  children,"  says  the  Scripture,  "  are 
'4ike  arrows  in  the  hands  of  the  gianK  and  blessed 
"is  the  man  that  hath  his  quiver  full^f  them  j"  a 
beautiful  figure  to  describe,  in  forcible  terms,  the 
support,  the  power,  which  a  father  derives  from  be- 
ing surrounded  by  a  family.  And  what  father,  thus 
blessed,  is  there  who  does  not  feel,  in  this  sort  of 
support,  a  reliance  which  he  feels  in  no  other  ?  In 
regard  to  this  sort  of  support  there  is  no  uncertain- 
ty, no  doubts,  no  misgivings;  it  is  yourself  t\mt  you 
see  in  your  children:  their  bosoms  are  the  safe  re- 
pository of  even  the  whispers  of  your  mind :  they 
are  the  great  and  unspeakable  delight  of  your  youth, 
the  pride  of  your  prime  of  life,  and  the  props  of 
your  old  age.  They  proceed  from  that  love,  the 
pleasures  of  which  no  tongue  or  pen  can  adequately 
describe,  and  the  various  blessings  which  they  bring 
are  equally  incapable  of  description. 

226.  But,  to  make  them  blessings,  you  must  act 
your  part  well ;  for  they  may,  by  your  neglect,  your 
ill-treatment,  your  evil  example,  be  made  to  be  the 
contrary  of  blessings  ;  instead  of  pleasure,  they  may 
bring  you  pain ;  instead  of  making  your  heart  glad, 
the  sight  of  them  may  make  it  sorrowful ;  instead 
of  being  the  staff  of  your  old  age,  they  may  bring 
your  gray  hairs  in  grief  to  the  grave. 

227.  It  is,  therefore,  of  the  greatest  importance, 
that  you  here  act  well  your  part,  omitting  nothing, 
even  from  the  very  beginning,  tending  to  give  you 
great  and  unceasing  influence  over  their  minds ;  and, 
i  above  all  things,  to  ensure,  if  possible,  an  ardent 
i  tore  oj  their  mother.  Your  first  duty  towards  them 
is  resolutely  to  prevent  their  drawing  the  means  of 
life/row  any  breast  hut  hers.    That  is  their  otwi;  it 

15* 


(I' 


(' 


I 


.■  m  i    .   1 , 

n\im''m 


It 


■  ■  f      ! 


174 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


is  their  birth-ri^ht ;  and  if  that  fail  from  any  natu- 
ral cause,  the  place  of  it  ought  to  be  supplied  by 
those  means  which  are  frequently  resorted  to  with- 
out  employing  a  hireling  breast.  1  am  aware  of  the 
too  frequent  practice  of  the  contrary ;  I  am  well 
aware  of  the  offence  which  I  shall  here  give  to  many; 
but  it  is  for  me  to  do  my  duty,  and  to  set,  with  re- 
gard to  myself,  consequences  at  defiance. 

228.  In  tl'e  first  place,  no  food  is  so  congenial  to 
the  child  aslhe  milk  of  its  own  mother ;  its  quality 
is  made  by  na'.-ure  to  suit  the  age  of  the  child  ;  it 
comes  with  the  child,  and  is  calculated  precisely  for 
its  stomach.  And,  then,  what  sort  of  a  mother  must 
that  be  who  can  endure  the  thought  of  seeing  her 
child  at  another  breast !  The  suckling  may  be  at- 
tended  with  great  pain,  and  it  is  so  attended  in  many 
cases ;  but  this  pain  is  a  necessary  consequence  of 
pleasures  foregone;  and,  besides,  it  has  its  accompany- 
ing pleasures  too.  No  mother  ever  suffered  more  than 
my  wife  did  from  suckling  her  children.  How  many 
times  have  I  seen  her,  when  the  child  was  begin- 
ning to  draw,  bite  her  lips  while  the  tears  ran  down 
her  cheeks !  Yet,  having  eno  ired  this,  the  smiles 
came  and  dried  up  the  tears ;  and  the  little  thing  that 
had  caused  the  pain  received  abundant  kisses  as  its 
punishment. 

229.  Why,  now,  did  1  not  love  her  the  more  for 
this  ?  Did  not  this  tend  to  rivet  her  to  my  heart? 
She  was  enduring  Wiisforme;  and  would  not  this 
endearing  thought  have  been  wanting,  if  I  had  seen 
the  baby  at  a  breast  that  I  had  hired  and  paid  for; 
if  I  had  had  tico  women,  one  to  bear  the  child  and 
another  to  give  it  milk  ?  Of  all  the  sights  that  this 
world  affords,  the  most  delightful  in  my  eyes,  even 
to  an  unconcerned  spectator,  is,  a  mother  with  her  i 
clean  and  fat  baby  lugging  at  her  breast,  leaving  off| 
now-and-then  and  smiling,  and  she,  occasionally, 
half  smothering  it  with  kisses.  What  must  tliatj 
sight  be,  then,  to  the  father  of  the  child  ? 

230.  Besides,  are  ive  to  overlook  the  great  andj 
wonderful  effect  that  this  has  on  the  minds  of  chil" 


[Letter 

[  any  natu- 
upplied  by 
ed  to  with- 
ware  of  the 
,  I  am  well 
veto  many; 
set,  with  re- 

./• 

congenial  to 
;  its  qnality 
he  child ;  it 
precisely  for 
mother  must 
)f  seeing  her 
r  may  be  at- 
ided  in  many 
nseqnence  of 
s  accompany- 
red  more  than 
1.  How  many 
Id  was  begm- 
3ars  ran  down 
is,  the  smiles 
lile  thing  that 
kisses  as  its 

the  more  for 

to  my  heart? 

rould  not  this 

,,  if  I  had  seen 

and  paid  for; 

Ithe  child  and 

5ights  that  this 

Imy  eyes,  even 

Vher  with  her 

ist,  leaving  off 

,,  occasionally, 

(hat  must  that 

ild? 

the  great  and 

minds  of  chil- 


V.J 


TO  A  FATHER. 


175 


dren'?  As  they  succeed  each  other,  they  see  with 
their  own  eyes,  the  pain,  the  care,  the  caresses,  which 
their  mother  has  endured  for,  or  bestowed,  oh  them; 
and  nature  bids  them  love  her  accordingly.  To  love 
her  ardently  becomes  part  of  their  very  nature ;  and 
when  the  time  comes  that  her  advice  to  them  is  ne- 
cessary as  a  guide  for  their  conduct,  this  deep  and 
early  impression  has  all  its  natural  weight,  which 
must  be  wholly  wanting  if  the  child  be  banished  to 
a  hireling  breast,  and  only  brought  at  times  into  the 
presence  of  the  mother,  who  is,  in  fact,  no  mother, 
or,  at  least,  but  half  a  one.  The  children  wh  i  are 
thus  banished,  love  (as  is  natural  and  just)  the  foster- 
mother  better  than  the  real  mother  as  long  as  they 
are  at  the  breast.  AVlien  this  ceases,  they  are  tongM 
to  love  their  own  mother  most;  but  this  teaching  ia 
of  a  cold  and  fo.rial  kind.  They  may,  and  generally 
do,  in  a  short  t-me,  care  little  about  the  foster-mo- 
ther ;  the  teach' iigwGdLXis  all  their  affection  from  her, 
but  it  does  net  transfer  it  to  the  c  her. 

231.  I  had  the  pleasure  to  know,  in  Hampshire, 
a  lady  who  had  brought  up  a  family  of  ten  children 
hi  hand^  as  they  call  it.  Owing  to  some  defect,  she 
could  not  suckle  her  children ;  but  she  wisely  and 
heroically  resolved,  that  her  children  should  hang 
upon  no  other  breast.^  and  that  she  would  not  parti- 
cipate in  the  crime  of  robbing  another  child  of  its 
birthright,  and,  as  is  mostly  the  case,  of  itslife.  Who 
has  not  seen  these  banished  children,  when  brought 
and  put  into  the  arms  of  their  mothers,  screaming 
I  to  get  from  them,  and  stretch  out  their  little  hands  to 
I  get  back  into  the  arms  of  the  nurse,  and  when  safely 
got  there,  hugging  the  hireling  as  if  her  bosom  were 
a  place  of  refuge?  Why,  such  a  sight  is,  one  would 
think,  enough  to  strike  a  mother  dead.  And  what 
sort  of  a  husband  and  father,  I  want  to  know,  must 
that  be,  who  can  endure  the  thought  of  his  child 
loving  another  woman  more  than  its  own  mother 
land  his  wife  ? 

232.  And  besides  all  these  considerations,  is  there 
Ino  crime  in  robbing  the  child  of  the  nurse,  and  in 


l,v|,'''''^i  ' 


'.  ;t,  ! 


§■ 


!k:*^ 


\'i 


miy 


:il:i 


I.!     ■    ,■      i' 


^1 

1 

\ 

■'I 

i 

u  .<■ 


■|ir:,i 


nii-Hi:iif,::! 


.,  'i  lilt 


'  |:„ 


U:l 


'      .!     t,    i 


f  I  '   'i,' 


fM' 


1,  !■<•;,  I '  ■ 


M  in 


I     ,     I 


,1 


1  '":j.l!(! 


llli 


!    I' 
Jilli 


iiP 

1  ;■!' 


176 


COBBETT  3  ADVICE 


[Letter 


exposing  it  ta  perish  ?  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  the 
child  of  the  nurse  may  be  dead,  and  thereby  leave  her 
breast  for  the  use  of  some  other.  Such  cases  must 
happen  too  seldom  to  be  at  all  relied  on;  and,  in- 
deed, every  one  must  see,  that  generally  speaking, 
there  must  be  a  child  cast  off  for  every  one  that  is 
put  to  a  hireling  breast.  Now,  without  supposing  it 
possible,  that  the  hireling  will,  in  any  case,  contrive 
to  get  rid  of  her  own  child,  every  man  who  employs 
such  hireling,  must  know,  that  he  is  exposing  such 
child  to  destruction ;  that  he  is  assisting  to  rob  it  of 
the  means  of  life;  and,  of  course,  assisting  to  pro- 
cure its  death,  as  completely  as  a  man  can,  in  any 
case,  assist  in  causing  death  by  starvation ;  a  consi- 
deration which  will  make  every  just  man  in  the 
world  recoil  at  the  thought  of  employing  a  hireling 
breast.  For  he  is  not  to  think  of  pacifying  his  con- 
science by  saying,  that  he  knows  nothing  about  the 
hireling's  child.  He  does  know ;  for  he  must  know, 
that  she  has  a  child,  and  that  he  is  a  principal  in 
robbing  it  of  the  means  of  life.  He  does  not  cast  it 
off  and  leave  it  to  perish  himself,  but  he  causes  the 
thing  to  be  done ;  and  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  he 
is  a  principal  in  the  cruel  and  cowardly  crime. 

233.  And  if  an  argument  could  possibly  be  yet 
wanting  to  the  husband ;  if  his  feelings  were  so  stiff 
as  still  to  remain  unmoved,  must  not  the  wife  be 
aware  that  whatever _/acc  the  world  may  put  upon  it, 
however  custom  may  seem  to  bear  her  out;  must 
she  not  be  aware  that  every  one  must  see  the  main 
Tnotive  which  induces  her  to  banish  from  her  arms 
that  which  has  formed  part  of  her  own  body  ?  All 
the  pretences  about  her  sore  breasts  and  her  want  of 
strength  are  vain :  nature  says  that  she  is  to  endure 
the  pains  as  well  as  the  pleasures :  whoever  has 
heard  the  bleating  of  the  ewe  for  her  lamb,  and  has 
seen  her  reconcUed,  or  at  least  pacified,  by  having 
presented  to  her  the  skin  or  some  of  the  blood  of  her 
aead  lamb :  whoever  has  witnessed  the  difficulty  of 
inducing  either  ewe  or  cow  to  give  her  milk  to  an 
alien  young  one:  whoever  has  seen  the  valour  of  the 


f?^' 


LLetter  I   V.] 


'i      A  FATHER. 


m 


I,, I' 


» say  that  the 
eby  leave  her 
I  cases  must 
on;  and,  in< 
lly  speaking, 
y  one  that  is 
;  supposing  it 
:ase,  contrive 
who  employs 
^posing  such 
ig  to  rob  it  of 
sting  to  pro- 
n  can,  in  any 
ion;  a  consi- 
t  man  in  the 
ing  a  hireling 
fying  his  con- 
ing about  the 
e  must  know, 
a  principal  in 
oes  not  cast  it 
he  causes  the 
i  purposes,  he 
y  crime, 
ssibly  be  yet 
[S  were  so  stiff 
\i  the  wife  be 
ly  put  upon  it, 
ler  out;  must 
see  the  main 
rom  her  arms 
nbody?    All 
id  her  want  of 
e  is  to  endure 
whoever  has 
Iamb,  and  has 
ed,  bv  having 
le  blood  of  her 
e  difficulty  of 
iv  milk  to  an 
B  valour  of  the 


timid  hen  in  defending  her  brood,  and  has  observed 
that  she  never  swallows  a  morsel  that  is  fit  for  her 
young,  until  they  be  amply  satisfied :  whoever  has 
seen  the  wild  birds,  though,  at  other  times,  shunning 
even  the  distant  approach  of  man,  flying  and  scream- 
ing round  his  head,  and  exposing  themselves  to  al- 
most certain  death  in  defence  of  their  nests :  who- 
ever has  seen  these  things,  or  any  one  of  them  must 
question  the  motive  that  can  induce  a  mother  to 
banish  a  child  from  her  own  breast  to  that  of  one 
who  has  already  been  so  unnatural  as  to  banish  hers. 
And,  in  seeking  for  a  motive  sufficiently  'powerful  to 
lead  to  such  an  act,  women  must  excuse  men,  if  they 
be  not  satisfied  with  the  ordinary  pretences ;  they 
must  excuse  me,  at  any  rate,  if  I  do  not  stop  even  at 
love  of  ease  and  want  of  maternal  affection,  and  if  I 
express  my  fear,  that,  superadded  to  the  unjustifiable 
motives,  there  is  one  which  is  calculated  to  excite 
disgust ;  namely,  a  desire  to  be  quickly  freed  from 
that  restraint  which  the  child  imposes,  and  to  hasten 
back,  unbridled  and  undisfigured,  to  those  enjoy- 
ments, to  have  an  eagerness  for  which,  or  to  wish  to 
excite  a  desire  for  which,  a  really  delicate  woman 
will  shudder  at  the  thought  of  being  suspected. 

234.  I  am  well  aware  of  the  hostility  that  I  have 
here  been  exciting;  but  there  is  another,  and  still 
more  furious,  bull  to  take  by  the  horns,  and  which 
would  have  been  encountered  somfi  pages  back  (that 
being  the  proper  place),  had  I  not  hesitated  between 
my  duty  and  my  desire  to  avoid  giving  offence ;  1 
[mean  the  employing  of  inale-opei'ators^  on  those 
occasions  where  female^  used  to  be  employed.    And 
here  I  have  every  thing  against  me ;  the  now  general 
custom,  even  amongst  the  most  chaste  and  delicate 
women;  the  ridicule  continually  cast  on  old  mid- 
wives  ;  the  interest  of  a  profession,  for  the  members 
lof  which  I  entertain  more  respect  and  regard  than 
Ifor  those  of  any  other ;  and,  above  all  the  rest,  my 
\mn  example  to  the  contrary^  and  my  knowledge  that 
Bvery  husband  has  the  same  apology  that  I  liad.  But 
because  I  acted  wrong  myself,  it  is  not  less,  but  ra- 


*    U 


.   1^^' 


*     ^  \ 


il 


i' 


/v 


:/  it 


1%  *■  i 


■  ty 


■^r] 


'M'' 


\^ 


I     M 


R  - 


iijriijiji 


ii'l 


178 


COBBETT'8  ADVICB 


[Letter  I   V.; 


ther  more,  my  duty  to  endeavour  to  dissuade  others 
from  doing  the  same.  My  wife  had  suffered  very 
severely  with  her  second  child,  which,  at  last,  was 
still-born.  The  next  time  I  pleaded  for  the  doctor; 
and,  after  every  argument  that  I  could  think  of,  ob- 
tained a  reluctant  consent.  Her  life  was  so  dear  to 
me,  that  every  thing  else  appeared  as  nothing.  Every 
husband  has  the  same  apology  to  make  j  and  thus, 
from  the  good,  and  not  from  the  bad,  feelings  of  men, 
the  practice  has  become  far  too  general,  for  me  to 
hope  even  to  narrow  it  j  but,  nevertheless,  I  camiot 
refrain  from  giving  my  opinion  on  the  subject. 

235.  We  are  apt  to  talk  in  a  very  unceremonious 
style  of  our  rude  ancestors,  of  their  ^ross  habits, 
their  want  of  delicacy  in  their  language.    No  man 
shall  ever  make  me  believe,  that  those  who  reared 
the  cathedral  of  Ely  (which  I  saw  the  other  day,) 
were  rude,  either  in  their  manners  or  in  their  minds 
and  words.    No  man  shall  make  me  believe,  that  our 
ancestors  were  a  rude  and  beggarly  race,  when  I 
read  in  an  act  of  parliament,  passed  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  the  Fourth,  regulating  the  dresses  of  the 
different  ranks  of  the  people,  and  forbidding  the 
LABOURERS  to  wear  coats  of  cloth  that  cost  more 
than  two  shilling's  a  yard,  (equal  to  forty  shillings 
of  our  present  money,)  and  forbidding  their  wives  I 
and  daughters  to  wear  sashes,  or  girdles,  trimmed 
with  gold  or  silver.    No  man  shall  make  me  believe 
that  this  was  a  rude  and  beggarly  race,  compared  | 
with  those  who  now  shirk  and  shiver  about  in  can- 
vass frocks  and  rotten  cottons.    Nor  shall  any  man  I 
persuade  me  that  that  was  a  Tnude  and  beggarly  state 
of  things,  in  which  (reign  of  Edward  the  Third)  an 
act  was  passed  regulating  the  wages  of  labour,  and 
ordering  that  a  woman,  for  weeding  in  tiie  crniA 
should  receive  a  penny  a  day,  while  a  quart  ofrm 
wine  was  sold  for  a  penny,  and  a  pair  of  men's  shoes, 
for  two-pence.    No  man  shall  make  me  believe  that 
agriculture  was  in  a  rude  state,  when  an  act  like 
this  was  passed,  or  that  our  ancestors  of  that  day 
were  rude  in  their  minds,  or  in  their  thoughts.   In- 1 


LLetter  I   ^J 


TO  A  FATHER. 


179 


i'^infeiil 


tuade  others 
iflfered  very 
,  at  last,  was 
:  the  doctor; 
ihink  of,  ob- 
\s  so  dear  to 
thing.  Every 
e ;  and  thus, 
lings  of  men, 
ral,  for  me  to 
[ess,  I  camiot 
subject, 
iceremonious 
frross  habits, 
ige.    No  man 
3  who  reared 
16  other  day,) 
in  their  minds 
ilieve,  that  our 
race,  when  I 
n  the  reign  of 
dresses  of  the 
forbidding  the 
that  cost  rmt 
^arty  shiUirigs 
ig  their  wives 
.dies,  trimmed 
lake  me  believe 
ace,  compared 
r  about  in  can- 
shall  any  man 
I  beggarly  stats 
[d  the  Third)  an 
of  labour,  and 
r  in  tlte  car% 
a  quart  of  red 
of  men's  shoes, 
.le  believe  that 
en  an  act  like 
,rs  of  that  day 
thoughts.  In- 


deed, there  are  a  thousand  proofs,  that,  whether  in 
regard  to  domestic  or  foreign  affairs,  whether  in  re- 
gard to  internal  freedom  and  happiness,  or  to  weight 
in  the  world,  England  was  at  her  zenith  about  the 
reign  of  Edward  the  Third.  The  jReformation,  as 
it  is  called,  gave  her  a  complete  pull  down.  She 
revived  again  in  the  reigns  of  the  Stuarts,  as  far  as 
related  to  internal  affairs ;  but  the  "  Glorious  Revo- 
lution"  and  its  debts  and  its  taxes,  liave,  amidst  the 
false  glare  of  new  palaces,  roads  and  canals,  brought 
her  down  until  she  has  become  the  land  of  domestic 
misery  and  of  foreign  impotence  and  contempt ;  and, 
until  she,  amidst  all  her  boasted  improvements  and 
refinements,  tremblingly  awaits  her  fall. 

236.  However,  to  return  from  this  digression,  rude 
mdi  unrefined  as  our  mothers  might  be,  plain  and 
unvarnished  as  they  might  be  in  their  language,  ac- 
customed as  they  might  be  to  call  things  by  their 
names,  though  they  were  not  so  very  delicate  as  to 
use  the  word  amaU-clotlies  ;  and  to  be  quite  unable^ 
in  speaking  of  horn-cattle,  horses,  sheep,  the  canine 
race,  and  poultry,  to  designate  them  by  their  sexual 
appellations ;  though  they  might  not  absolutely 
faint  at  hearing  these  appellations  used  by  others  ; 
rude  and  unr^ned  and  indelicate  as  they  might  be, 
they  did  not  suffer,  in  the  cases  alluded  to,  the  ap- 
proaches of  men,  which  approaches  are  unceremoni- 
ously suffered,  and  even  sought,  by  their  polished 
and  refined  and  delicate  daughters  ;  and  of  unmar- 
ried men  too,  in  many  cases  j  and  of  very  young 
men. 

237.  From  all  antiquity  this  office  was  allotted  to 
vmnan,  Moses's  life  was  saved  by  the  humanity 
of  the  Egyptian  midwife  ;  and  to  the  employment 
I  of  females  in  this  memorable  case,  the  world  is  pro- 
bably  indebted  for  that  which  has  been  left  it  by 
that  greatest  of  all  law-givers,  whose  institutes,  rude 
as  they  were,  have  been  the  foundation  of  all  the 
wisest  and  most  just  laws  in  all  the  countries  of  Eu- 
rope and  America.  It  was  the  fellow  fediufr  of  tlie 
Imidwife  for  the  poor  mother  that   saved  Moi^fs. 


[11  ■  1 


180 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


■^■'''■'U'    u 


l^  '  ' 


IS    'I 


t  ■ 


And  none  but  a  mother  can,  in  such  cases,  feel  to  the 
full  and  effectual  extent  that  which  the  operator 
ought  to  feel.  She  has  been  in  the  same  state  her- 
self; she  knows  more  about  the  matter,  except  in 
cases  of  very  rare  occurrence,  than  any  man,  how- 
ever great  his  learning  and  experience,  can  ever 
kno  .7.  She  knows  all  the  previous  symptoms ;  she 
can  judge  more  correctly  than  man  can  judge  in 
such  a  case ;  she  can  put  questions  to  the  party, 
which  a  man  cannot  put ;  the  communication  be- 
tween the  two  is  wholly  without  reserve ;  the  person 
of  the  one  is  given  up  to  the  other,  as  completely 
as  her  own  is  under  her  command.  This  never  can 
be  the  case  with  a  man-operator  ;  for,  after  all  that 
can  be  said  or  done,  the  native  feeling  of  women,  in 
whatever  rank  of  life,  will,  in  these  cases,  restrain 
them  from  saying  and  doing,  before  a  man,  even  be- 
fore a  husband,  many  things  which  they  ought  to 
say  and  do.  So  that,  perhaps,  even  with  regard  to 
the  bare  question  of  comparative  safety  to  life,  the 
midwife  is  the  preferable  person. 

238.  But  safety  to  life  is  not  ALL.  The  preserva- 
tion of  life  is  not'  to  be  preferred  to  EVERY  THING. 
Ought  not  a  man  to  prefer  death  to  the  commission 
of  treason  against  his  country  ?  Ought  not  a  man 
to  die,  rather  than  save  his  life  by  the  prostitution  of 
his  wife  to  a  tyrant,  who  insists  upon  the  one  or  the 
other  ?  Every  man  and  every  woman  will  answer 
m  the  affirmative  to  both  these  questions.  There 
are  then,  cases  when  people  ought  to  submit  to  cer- 
tain  death.  Surely  then,  the  mere  chance,  the  mere 
possibility  of  it,  ought  not  to  outweigh  the  mighty 
considerations  on  the  other  side ;  ought  not  to  over- 
come that  inborn  modesty,  that  sacved  reserve  as  to 
tl'oirperso^s,  which,  asl  said  before,  is  the  charm 
of  charms  of  the  female  sex,  and  which  our  mo- 
thers, rudo  as  they  were  called  by  us,  took,  we  may 
be  satisfied,  the  best  and  most  effectual  means  of  | 
preserving. 

239.  But  is  there,  after  all,  any  thing  real  in  this 
greater  security  for  the  life  of  either  mother  or  I 


^W.  .;iJ 


[Letter 

J,  feel  to  tlie 
tie  operator 
e  state  Iter- 
f,  except  in 

man,  how- 
e,  can  ever 
iptoins ;  she 
lan  judge  in 
0  tlie  party, 
mication  be- 
i ;  the  person 
3  completely 
lis  never  can 

after  all  that 
of  women,  in 
ases,  restrain 
man,  even  be- 
liey  ought  to 
vith  regard  to 
ty  to  life,  the 

The  preserva- 
ERY  THING. 

|e  commission 
ht  not  a  man 
[prostitution  of 
the  one  or  the 
in  will  answer 
;tions.    There 
submit  to  cer- 
nee,  the  mere 
rh  the  mighty 
X  not  to  over- 
reserve  as  to 
is  the  charm 
hich  our  mo- 
took,  we  may 
Itual  means  of 

ig  real  in  this 
ler  mother  or 


v.l 


TO  A  FATHER. 


181 


child  7  If,  then,  risk  were  so  great  as  to  call  upon 
women  to  overcome  this  natural  repugnance  to  suf- 
fer the  approaches  of  a  man,  that  risk  must  be 
general ;  it  must  apply  to  all  women  ;  and,  further, 
It  must,  ever  since  the  creation  of  man,  always 
have  so  applied.  Now,  resorting  to  the  employ- 
ment of  Twe^-operators  has  not  been  in  vogue  in 
Europe  more  than  about  seventy  years,  and  has  not 
been  general  in  England  more  than  about  thirty  or 
forty  years.  So  that  the  risk  in  employing  m«id- 
wives  must,  of  late  years,  have  become  vastly  great- 
er than  it  was  even  when  I  was  a  boy,  or  the  whole 
race  must  have  been  extinguished  long  ago.  And, 
then,  how  puzzled  we  should  be  to  account  for  the 
building  of  all  the  cathedrals,  and  all  the  churches, 
and  the  draining  of  all  the  marshes,  and  all  the  fens, 
more  than  a  thousand  years  before  the  word  "  ac- 
coucheur^^ ever  came  from  the  lips  of  woman,  and, 
before  the  thought  came  into  her  mind  ?  And  here, 
even  in  the  use  of  this  word,  we  have  a  specimen  of 
the  refined  delicacy  of  the  present  age ;  here  w© 
have,  varnish  the  matter  over  how  we  may,  modesty 
in  the  word  and  grossness  in  the  ihovght.  Farmers' 
wives,  daughters,  and  maids,  cannot  now  allude  to, 
or  hear  named,  without  blushing,  those  affairs  of 
I  the  homestead,  which  they,  within  my  memory, 
used  to  talk  about  as  freely  as  of  milking  or  spin- 
ning ;  but  have  they  become  more  ideally  modest  than 
their  mothers  were'?  Has  this  refinement  made 
Ithem  more  continent  than  those  rude  mothers  ?  A 
Ijury  at  Westminster  gave,  about  six  years  ago,  da- 
mages to  a  man,  calling  himself  a  gentleman, 
jagainst  a  favmer,  because  the  latter,  for  the  purpose 
jfoi  which  such  animals  are  kept,  had  a  hull  in  his 
pard,  on  which  the  windows  of  the  gentleman  look- 
ed! The  plaintiff  alleged,  that  this  was  so  offensive 
|[ohis  wife  and  daughters,  that,  if  the  defendant  were 
not  compelled  to  desist,  he  should  be  obliged  to 
ick  up  his  windows,  or  to  quit  the  house  !  If  I 
|iad  been  the  father  of  these,  at  once,  delicate  and 
mous  daughters,  I  would  not  have  been  the  herald 
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182 


cobbett's  advice 


[Lettcfr  I   V. 


of  their  purity  of  mind ;  and  if  I  had  been  the  suitor 
of  one  of  them,  I  would  have  taken  care  to  give  up  the 
suit  with  all  convenient  speed ;  for  how  could  I  rea- 
sonably have  hoped  ever  to  be  able  to  prevail  on  deli- 
cacy, 80  exquisite  J  to  commit  itself  to  a  pair  of  bridal 
sheets  1  In  spite,  however,  of  all  this  "  refinement 
in  the  human  mind,"  which  is  everlastingly  dinned 
in  our  ears ;  in  spite  of  the  "  small-dothesj'^  and  of 
all  the  other  affected  stuff,  we  have  this  conclusion, 
this  indubitable  proof  of  the  falling  off  in  real  delica- 
cy ;  namely,  that  common  prostitutes,  formerly  un- 
known, now  swarm  in  our  towns,  and  are  seldom 
wanting  even  in  our  villages ;  and  where  there  was 
one  illegitimate  child  (including  those  coming  be- 
fore the  time)  only  fifty  years  ago,  there  are  now 
twenty. 

240.  And  who  can  say  how  far  the  employment 
of  men,  in  the  cases  alluded  to,  may  have  assisted  in 
producing  this  change,  so  disgraceful  to  the  present 
age,  and  so  injurious  to  the  female  sex  ?  The  pro- 
stitution and  the  swarms  of  illegitimate  children 
have  a  natural  and  inevitable  tendency  to  lessen  that 
respect,  and  that  kind  and  indulgent  feeling,  which 
is  due  from  all  men  to  virtuous  women.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  unworthy  members  of  any  profes- 
sion, calling,  or  rank  in  life,  cause,  by  their  acts,  the 
whole  body  to  sink  in  the  general  esteem ;  it  is  well 
known  that  the  habitual  dishonesty  of  merchants  I 
trading  abroad,  the  habitual  profligate  behaviour  of 
travellers  from  home,  the  frequent  proofs  of  abject 
submission  to  tyrants ;  it  is  well  known  that  these 
may  give  the  character  of  dishonesty,  profligacy,  or 
cowardice,  to  a  whole  nation.  There  are,  doubtless, 
many  men  in  Switzerland,  who  abhor  the  infamous  | 
practices  of  men  selling  themselves,  by  whole  regi- 
ments, to  fight  for  any  foreign  state  that  will  pay  I 
them,  no  matter  in  what  cause,  and  no  matter  whe- 
ther against  their  own  parents  or  brethren;  but  the 
censure  falls  upon  the  whole  natiwi :  and  "  no  Tnom/A 
no  Swiss,"  is  a  proverb  throughout  the  world.  Itis,| 
amidst  those  scenes  of  prostitution  and  bastardy, 


[Letter  I   V.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


I^ 


a  the  suitor 
•  give  up  the 
could  I  rea- 
svail  on  deli- 
•air  of  bridal 
"  refinement 
ngly  dinned 
J/ies,"  and  of 
(  conclusion, 
1  real  delica- 
formerly  un- 
id  are  seldom 
jre  there  was 
3  coming  be- 
lere  are  now 

I  employment 
Lve  assisted  in 
to  the  present 
X  ?    The  pro- 
mate  children 
to  lessen  that 
feeling,  which 
en.    It  is  well 
of  any  profes- 
their  acts,  the 
em;  it  is  well 
of  merchants 
e  behaviour  of 
roofs  of  abject 
own  that  these 
profligacy,  or 
are,  doubtless, 
the  infamous 
)y  whole  regi- 
5  that  will  pay 
10  matter  whe- 
thren;  but  the 
md  "  wo  wioney, 
le  world.    It  is, 
and  bastardy, 


impossible  for  men  in  genera]  to  respect  the  female 
sex  to  the  degree  that  they  formerly  did ;  while 
numbers  will  be  apt  to  adopt  the  unjust  sentiment  of 
the  old  bachelor,  Pope,  that  ^^  every  woman  is^  at 
^^heartj  a  rake?'' 

241.  Who  knows,  I  say,  in  what  degree  the  em- 
ployment of  men-operators  may  have  tended  to 
produce  this  change,  so  injurious  to  the  female  sex  ? 
Aye,  and  to  encourage  unfeeling  and  brutal  men  to 
propose  that  the  dead  bodies  of  females,  if  mar, 
should  be  sold  for  the  purpose  of  exhibition  and  dis- 
section before  an  audience  of  men ;  a  proposition 
that  our  "ri«de  ancestors"  would  have  answered,  not 
by  words,  but  by  blows  !  Alas  !  our  women  may 
talk  of  "  small-clothes"  as  long  as  they  please;  they 
may  blush  to  scarlet  at  hearing  animals  designated 
by  their  sexual  appellations ;  it  may,  to  give  the 
world  a  proof  of  our  excessive  modesty  and  delica- 
cy, even  pass  a  law  (indeed  we  have  done  it)  to 
punish  "  an  exposure  of  the  person  ;"  but  as  long  as 
our  streets  swarm  with  prostitutes,  our  asylums  and 
prji/ate  houses  with  bastards ;  as  long  as  we  have 
wa«-operators  in  the  delicate  cases  alluded  to,  and  as 
long  as  the  exhibiting  of  the  dead  body  of  a  virtu- 
ous female  before  an  audience  of  men  shall  not  be 
punished  by  the  law,  and  even  with  death ;  as  long 
as  we  shall  appear  to  be  satisfied  in  this  state  of 
things,  it  becomes  us,  at  any  rate,  to  be  silent  about 
purity  of  mind,  improvement  of  manners,  and  an 
increase  of  refinement  and  delicacy. 

242.  This  practice  has  brought  the  "  doctor''''  into 
\every  family  in  the  kingdom,  which  is  of  itself  no 
small  evil.  I  am  not  thinking  of  the  expense;  for, 
incases  like  these,  nothing  in  that  way  ought  to  be 
spared.  If  necessary  to  the  safety  of  his  wife,  a  man 
ought  not  only  to  part  with  his  last  shilling,  but  to 
Ipledge  his  future  labour.  But  we  all  know  that 
[there  are  imaginary  ailments^  many  of  which  are 
[absolutely  created  by  the  habit  of  talking  with  or 

about  the  '^  docto7\^^    Read  the   "Domestic  Medi- 
BiNE,"  and  by  the  time  that  you  have  done,  you  will 


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184 


C0!3BETT^S  ADTICR 


[Utter 


imagine  that  you  have,  at  times,  all  the  diseases  of 
which  it  treats.  This  practice  has  added  to,  has 
doubled,  aye,  has  augmented,  I  verily  believe,  tenfold 
the  number  of  the  gentkmrn  who  fre,  in  common 
parlance,  called  ^^  doctors  ;^''  at  which,  indeed,  I,  on 
my  own  private  account,  ought  to  rejoice  ;  for,  m- 
variciblij  1  have,  even  \\\  the  worst  of  times,  found 
them  every  where  amongst  my  staunchest  and  kind- 
est friends.  But  though  these  gentlemen  are  not  to 
blame  for  this,  any  more  than  attorneys  are  for  their 
increase  in  number  ;  and  amongst  these  gentlemen, 
too,  I  have,  with  very  few  exceptions,  always  found 
eensible  men  and  zealous  friends ;  though  the  par- 
ties pursuing  these  professions  are  not  to  blame ; 
though  the  increase  of  attorneys  has  arisen  from  the 
endless  number  and  the  complexity  of  the  laws,  and 
from  the  tenfold  mass  of  crimes  caused  by  poverty 
arising  from  oppressive  taxation ;  and  though  the 
increase  of  "  doctors"  has  arisen  from  the  diseases 
and  the  imaginary  ailments  arising  from  that  effe- 
minate luxury  which  has  been  created  by  the  draw- 
ing of  wealth  from  the  many,  and  giving  it  to  the 
few ;  and,  as  the  lower  classes  will  always  endeavour 
to  imitate  the  higher,  so  the  "  accoucheur^^  has,  along 
with  the  "  smaU-dotJies,'^^  descended  from  the  loan- 1 
monger's  palace  down  to  the  hovel  of  the  pauper,  i 
there  to  take  his  fee  out  of  the  poor-rates ;  though 
these  parties  are  not  to  blame,  the  thing  is  not! 
less  an  evil.  Both  professions  have  lost  in  cha- 
racter, in  proportion  to  the  increase  in  the  number! 
of  its  members;  peaches,  if  they  grew  on  hedges, 
would  rank  but  little  above  the  berries  of  the  bram-| 
ble. 

243.  But  to  return  once  more  to  the  matter  o{risk\ 
of  life ;  can  it  be  that  nature  has  so  ordered  it,  that, 
as  a  ff&ieral  things  the  life  of  either  mother  or  child! 
shall  be  in  danger^  even  if  there  were  no  attendant! 
at  all  ?  Can  this  he  7  Certainly  it  cannot :  safetn 
must  be  the  rule,  and  danger  the  exception ;  this! 
must  be  the  case,  or  the  world  never  could  have  been! 
peopled ;  and^  perhaps,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  ofl 


v.] 


TO  A  FATHEIt. 


185 


i  diseases  of 
Ided  to,  has 
ieve,  tenfold 
in  common 
indeed,  I,  on 
(ice ;  for,  in- 
imes,  found 
est  and  kind- 
3n  are  not  to 
are  for  their 
56  gentlemen, 
ilways  found 
lUgh  the  par- 
ol to  blame; 
•isen  from  the 
the  laws,  and 
Bd  by  poverty 
id  though  the 
n  the  diseases 
•om  that  effe- 
by  the  draw- 
[ving  it  to  the 
ays  endeavour ' 
jwr"  has,  along 
from  the  loan- 1 
of  the  pauper, 
■rates;  though 
thing  is  not 
„  lost  in  cha- 
n  the  number 
3W  on  hedges, 
IS  of  thebram- 

3  matter  of  risfc 
prdered  it,  that, 
tiother  or  child 
teno  attendant 
[cannot:  safem 
Exception  -,  this 
Wld  have  been 
le  cases  out  of 


every  hundred,  if  nature  were  left  whoUp  to  Tierselfi 
all  would  be  right.  The  great  doctor,  in  these  cases, 
is,  comforting,  consoling,  cheering  up.  And  who 
can  perform  this  office  like  women  7  who  have  for 
these  occasions  a  language  and  sentiments  which 
seem  to  have  been  invented  for  the  purpose ;  and  be 
they  what  they  may  as  to  general  demeanour  and 
character,  they  have  all,  upon  these  occasions,  one 
common  feeling,  and  that  so  amiable,  so  excellent,  as 
to  admit  of  no  adequate  description.  They  com- 
pletely forget,  for  the  time,  all  rivalships,  all  squab- 
bles, all  animosities,  all  hatred  even ;  every  one  feels 
as  if  it  were  her  own  part  v.  alar  concern. 

244.  These,  we  may  '  well  assured,  are  the  pro- 
per attendants  on  thes.  isions ;  the  mother,  the 
aunt,  the  sister,  the  cf  \A  female  neighbour ; 
these  are  the  suitable  attendants,  having  some  expe- 
rienced woman  to  afford  extraordinary  aid,  if  such 
be  necessary ;  and  in  the  few  cases  where  the  pre- 
servation of  life  demands  the  surgeon's  skill,  he  is 
always  at  hand.  The  contrary  practice,  which  we 
got  from  the  French,  is  not,  however,  so  general  in 
France  as  in  England.  We  have  outstripped  all  the 
world  in  this,  as  we  have  in  every  thing  which  pro- 
ceeds from  luxury  and  effeminacy  on  the  one  hand, 
and  from  poverty  on  the  other ;  the  millions  have 
been  stripped  of  their  means  to  heap  wealth  on  the 
thousands,  and  have  been  corrupted  in  manners,  as 
well  as  in  morals,  by  vicious  examples  set  them  by 
the  possessors  of  that  wealth.  As  reason  says  that 
the  practice  of  which  I  complain  cannot  be  cured 
without  a  total  change  in  society,  it  would  be  pre- 
sumption in  me  to  expect  such  cure  from  any  efforts 
of  mine.  I  therefore  must  content  myself  with 
hoping  that  such  change  will  come,  and  with  decla- 
ring, that  if  I  had  to  live  my  life  over  again,  I  would 
act  upon  the  opinions  which  I  have  thought  it  my 
jbounden  duty  here  to  state  and  endeavour  to  main- 
Itain. 

245.  Having  gotten  over  these  thorny  places  as 
uickly  as  possible,  I  gladly  come  back  to  the  Bat 

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186 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


LLetter 


BIBS ;  with  regard  to  whom  I  shall  have  no  preju- 
dices, no  affectation,  no  false  pride,  no  sham  fears  to 
encounter ;  every  heart  (except  there  be  one  made 
f>f  flint)  being  with  me  here.  "  Then  were  there 
"brought  unto  him  little  children^  that  he  should  put 
'*  his  hands  on  them,  and  pray :  and  the  disciples  re- 
"  buked  them.  But  Jesus  said.,  Suffer  little  children, 
'*and  forbid  them  not  to  come  unto  me;  for  of  such 
**  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  A  figure  most  forcibly 
expressive  of  the  character  and  beauty  of  innocence, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  most  aptly  illustrative  of  the 
doctrine  of  regeneration.  And  where  is  the  man ;  the 
woman  who  is  not  fond  of  babies  is  not  worthy  the 
name ;  but  where  is  the  man  who  does  not  feel  his 
heart  softened  j  who  does  not  feel  himself  become 
gentler;  who  does  not  lose  all  the  hardness  of  his 
temper ;  when,  in  any  way,  for  any  purpose,  or  by 
any  body,  an  appeal  is  made  to  him  in  behalf  o{ 
these  so  helpless  and  so  perfectly  innocent  little  crea- 
tures 1 

246.  Shakspeare,  who  is  cried  up  as  the  great  in- 
terpreter of  the  human  heart-,  has  said,  that  the  man 
In  whose  soul  there  is  no  music,  or  love  of  music,  i 
Is  "fit  for  murders,  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils." 
*^  Our  immortal  bard,"  as  the  profligate  Sheridan 
used  to  call  him  in  public,  while  he  laughed  at  him| 
in  private ;  our  "  immortal  bard"  seems  to  have  for- 
gotten  that  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego,  were  I 
Bung  into  the  fiery  furnace  (made  seven  times  hotter 
than  usual)  amidst  the  sound  of  the  cornet,  flute, 
harp,  sackbut,  and  dulcimer,  and  all  kinds  of  music; 
he  seems  to  have  forgotten  that  it  was  a  music  and  a 
dance-loving  damsel  that  chose,  as  a  recompense  for 
her  elegant  performance,  the  bloody  head  of  John 
the  Baptist,  brought  to  her  in  a  charger ;  he  seems 
to  have  forgotten  that,  while  Rome  burned,  Neroj 
fiddled :  he  did  not  know,  perhaps,  that  cannibals  al- 
ways  dance  and  sing  while  their  victims  are  roasting;! 
Imt  he  might  have  known,  and  he  must  have  known,! 
that  England's  greatest  tyrant,  Henry  VIII.,  had,  as 
his  agent  in  bloody  Thomas  Cromwell^  expressed  it, 


■^ 


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ILetter  I   V.} 


TO  A  FATHEB. 


187 


ive  no  preju- 
sham  fears  lo 
be  one  made 
sn  were  there 
he  should  put 
lC  disciples  re- 
Little  children, 
e ;  for  of  such 
most  forcibly 
of  innocence, 
strative  of  the 
3  the  man;  the 
lot  worthy  the 
es  not  feel  his 
imself  become 
lardness  of  his 
purpose,  or  by 
m  in  behalf  ol 
jcent  little  crea- 

as  the  great  in- 
td,  that  the  man 
love  of  music, 
ms,  and  spoils." 
ligate  Sheridan 
laughed  at  him 
ims  to  have  for- 
\bednego,were 
ven  times  hotter 
le  cornet,  flute, 
kinds  of  music; 
IS  a  music  and  a 
recompense  for 
y  head  of  John 
rger ;  he  seemsl 
e  burned,  Nero 
hat  cannibals  al- 
ms are  roasting;| 
usthaveknown,! 
T  VUI.,  had,  M 
il,  expressed  It, 


<<his  sweet  smd  enwrapped  in  the  celestial  sounds  of 
music;"  and  this  was  just  at  the  time  when  the  fero- 
cious tyrant  was  ordering  Catholics  and  Protestants 
to  be  tied  back  to  back  on  the  same  hurdle,  dragged 
to  Smithfield  on  that  hurdle,  and  there  tied  to,  and 
burnt  from,  the  same  stake.  Shakspeaire  must  have 
known  these  things,  for  he  lived  immediately  after 
their  date ;  and  if  he  had  lived  in  our  day,  he  would 
have  seen  instances  enough  of  "  sweet  souls"  en- 
wrapped in  the  same  manner,  and  capable,  if  not  of 
deeds  equally  bloody,  of  others,  discovering  a  total 
want  of  feeling  for  sufferings  not  unfrequentiy  occa- 
sioned by  their  own  wanton  waste,  and  waste  aris- 
ing, too,  in  part,  from  their  taste  for  these  "  celestial 
sounds." 

247.  O  no !  the  heart  of  man  is  not  to  be  known 
by  this  test :  a  great  fondness  for  music  is  a  mark  of 
great  weakness,  great  vacuity  of  mind :  not  of  hard- 
ness of  heart;  not  of  vice ;  not  of  downright  folly; 
but  of  a  want  of  capacity,  or  inclination,  for  sober 
thought.  This  is  not  always  the  case:  accidental 
circumstances  almost*  force  the  taste  upon  people : 
but,  generally  speaking,  it  is  a  preference  of  sound  to 
sense.  But  the  man,  and  especially  the  father,  who 
Is  not  fond  of  babies;  who  does  not  feel  his  heart 
softened  when  he  touches  their  almost  boneless  limbs ; 
when  he  sees  their  little  eyes  first  begin  to  discern ; 
when  he  hears  their  tender  accents ;  the  man  whose 
heart  does  not  beat  truly  to  this  test,  is,  to  say  the 
best  of  him,  an  object  of  compassion. 

248.  But  the  mother's  feelings  are  here  to  be 
thought  of  too ;  for,  of  all  gratifications,  the  very 
greatest  that  a  mother  can  receive,  is  notice  taken  of, 

i  and  praise  bestowed  on,  her  baby.  The  moment  that 
gets  into  her  arms,  every  thing  else  diminishes  in 
I  value,  the  father  only  excepted.  Her  cfwn  personal 
charms  notwithstanding  all  that  men  say  and  have 
written  on  the  subject,  become,  at  most,  a  secondary 
object  as  soon  as  the  baby  arrives.  A  saying  of  the 
old,  profligate  King  of  Prussia  is  frequently  quoted 
in  proof  of  the  truth  of  the  maxim)  that  a  woman 


:i 


I  ■ 


W- 


*           * 

■   :t 


t 


186 


COBBETT^S  ADVICB 


[Letter 


•':ii> 


•i',:ij 


m:1 


■mn 


will  forgive  any  thing  but  caUing  her  ngly:  a  very 
true  maxim,  perhaps,  as  applied  to  prostitutes,  whe- 
ther in  high  or  low  life ;  but  a  pretty  long  life  of  ob- 
servation has  told  me,  that  a  nwther^  worthy  of  the 
name,  will  care  little  about  what  you  say  of  her  per- 
son, so  that  you  will  but  extol  the  beauty  of  her  ba- 
by. Her  baby  is  always  the  very  prettiest  that  ever 
was  born !  It  is  always  an  eighth  wonder  of  the 
world !  And  thus  it  ought  to  be,  or  there  would  be 
a  want  of  that  wondrous  attachment  to  it  which  is 
necessary  to  bear  her  up  through  all  those  cares  and 
pains  and  toils  inseparable  from  the  preservation  of 
its  life  and  health. 

249.  It  is,  however,  of  the  part  which  the  husband 
has  to  act,  in  participating  in  these  cares  and  toils, 
that  I  am  now  to  speak.  Let  no  man  imagine  that 
the  world  will  despise  him  for  helping  to  take  care 
of  his  own  child :  thoughtless  fools  may  attempt  to 
ridicule ;  the  unfeeling  few  may  join  in  the  attempt; 
but  all,  whose  good  opinion  is  worthy  having,  will 
applaud  his  conduct,  and  will,  in  many  cases,  be  dis- 
posed to  repose  confidence  in  him  on  that  very  ac- 
count. To  say  of  a  man,  that  he  is  fond  of  his  family, 
is,  of  itself,  to  say  that,  in  private  life  at  least,  he  is  I 
a  good  and  trust-worthy  man ;  aye,  and  in  public 
life  too,  pretty  much ;  for  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  se-  { 
parate  the  two  characters ;  and  it  is  naturally  con- 
cluded, that  he  who  has  been  flagrantly  wanting  in] 
feelin]^  for  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  will  not  be  very 
sensitive  towards  the  rest  of  mankind.  There  is  no- 
thing more  an^iable,  nothing  more  delightful  to  be- 
hold, than  &  :  ysi'  man  especially  taking  part  in  the 
work  of  nurb*x.g  the  children ;  and  how  often  have 
I  admired  this  in  the  labouring  men  in  Hampshire! 
It  is,  indeed,  generally  the  same  all  over  England; 
and  as  to  America,  it  would  be  deemed  brutal  for  al 
man  not  to  take  his  full  share  of  these  cares  and  lal 
hours. 

250.  The  man  who  is  to  gain  a  living  by  his  la| 
bour,  must  be  drawn  away  from  home,  or,  at  lea 
from  the  cradle-side,  in  order  to  perform  that  labourij 


[Letter  I  V.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


180 


gly;  a  very 
atutes,  whe- 
nglifeofob- 
ortby  of  the 
y  of  her  per- 
ty  of  her  ba- 
tiest  that  ever 
ronder  of  the 
lere  would  be 

0  it  which  is 
LOse  cares  and 
reservation  of 

>\ii\ie  husband 
ares  and  toils, 

1  imagine  that 
ig  to  take  care 
nay  attempt  to 
in  the  attempt; 
kiy  having,  will 
ly  cases,  be  dis- 
,n  that  very  ac- 
^d  of  his  family, 
e  at  least,  he  is 

and  in  public 
jy  matter  to  se- 

naturally  coii- 
itly  wanting  in 
ivillnotbevery 
id.  There  is  no- 
ielightful  to  be- 1 
[king  part  in  the 

[how  often  have 
in  Hampshire! 
over  England;' 
med  brutal  for  a 
se  cares  andla- 

Iving  by  his  la- 
We,  or,  at  lea8t,| 
krm  that  labow 


but  this  wil!  not,  If  he  be  made  of  good  stuff,  prevent 
him  from  doing  his  share  of  the  duty  due  to  his  chil- 
dren. There  are  still  many  hours  in  the  twenty-four, 
that  he  will  have  to  spare  for  this  duty ;  and  there 
ought  to  be  no  toils,  no  watchings,  no  breaking  of 
rest,  imposed  by  this  dutj'^,  of  which  he  ought  not  to 
perform  his  full  share,  and  that,  too,  without  grudg- 
ing. This  is  strictly  due  from  him  in  payment  for 
the  pleasures  of  the  marriage  state.  What  right  has 
he  to  the  sole  possession  of  a  wommi's  person ;  what 
right  to  a  husband's  vast  authority ;  what  right  to  the 
honourable  title  and  the  boundless  power  oi  father: 
what  7*ight  has  he  to  all,  or  any  of  these,  unless  he 
can  found  his  claim  on  the  faithful  performance  of 
all  the  duties  which  these  titles  imply  1 

251.  One  great  source  of  the  unhappiness  amongst 
mankind  arises,  however,  from  a  neglect  of  these  du- 
ties; but,  as  if  by  way  of  compensation  for  their 
privations,  they  are  much  more  duly  performed  by 
the  poor  than  by  the  rich.    The  fashion  of  the  la- 
bouring people  is  this :  the  husband,  when  free  from 
his  toil  in  the  fields,  takes  his  share  in  the  nursing, 
which  he  manifestly  looks  upon  as  a  sort  of  reward 
for  his  labour.    However  distant  from  his  cottage, 
his  heart  is  always  at  that  home  towards  which  he  is 
carried,  at  night,  by  limbs  that  feel  not  their  weari- 
ness, being  urged  on  by  a  heart  anticipating  the  wel- 
come of  those  who  attend  him  there.  Those  who  have, 
[as  I  so  many  hundreds  of  times  have,  seen  the  la- 
urers  in  the  woodland  parts  of  Hampshire  and 
lussex,  coming,  at  night-fall,  towards  their  cottage- 
ickets,  laden  with  fuel  for  a  day  or  two ;  whoever 
as  seen  three  or  four  little  creatures  looking  out  for 
he  father's  approach,  running  in  to  announce  the 
;lad  tidings,  and  then  scampering  out  to  meet  him, 
linging  round  his  knees,  or  hanging  on  his  skirts  ; 
hoever  has  witnessed  scenes  like  this,  to  witness 
hich  has  formed  one  of  the  greatest  delights  of  my 
life,  will  hesitate  long  before  he  prefer  a  Hfe  of  ease 
b  a  life  of  labour ;  before  he  prefer  a  communica- 
lion  with  children  intercepted  by  servants  and  teach^ 


',.t„ 


■.\-:.   -.-t.' 


1: ;  'I 


■(■>*{ 


;'i 


•fa 


'  .1'-, 


1 

It' 

m 


)    i   '                     r                        '{ 

! 

190 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


LLetter 


ers  to  that  communication  which  is  here  direct,  and 
which  admits  not  of  any  division  of  affection. 

252.  Then  comes  tJie  Sunday ;  and,  amongst  all 
those  who  keep  no  servants,  a  great  deal  depends  on 
the  manner  in  which  the  father  employs  that  day. 
When  there  are  two  or  three  children,  or  even  one 
child,  the  first  thing,  after  llie  breakfast  (which  is 
late  on  this  day  of  rest)  is  to  wash  and  dress  the 
child  or  children.  Then,  while  the  mother  is  dress- 
ing the  dinner,  the  father,  being  in  the  Sunday- 
clothes  himself,  takes  care  of  the  child  or  children. 
When  dinner  is  over,  the  mother  puts  on  her  best ; 
and  then  all  go  to  church,  or,  if  that  cannot  be, 
whether  from  distance  or  other  cause,  ail  pass  the 
afternoon  together.  This  used  to  be  the  way  of 
hfe  amongst  the  labouring  people ;  and  from  this 
way  of  life  arose  the  most  able  and  most  moral  peo- 
ple that  the  world  ever  saw,  until  grinding  taxation 
took  from  them  the  means  of  obtaining  a  sufficiency 
of  food  and  raiment ;  plunged  the  whole,  good  and 
bad,  into  one  indiscriminate  mass,  under  the  degra- 
ding and  hateful  name  of  paupers. 

253.  The  working  man,  in  whatever  line,  and 
whether  in  town  or  country,  who  spends  his  day  oJ\ 
restf  or  any  part  of  it,  except  in  case  of  absolute 
necessity,  away  from  his  wife  and  children,  is  not  | 
worthy  of  the  name  oi  father^  and  is  seldom  wor- 
thy of  the  trust  of  any  employer.    Such  absence! 
argues  a  want  of  fatherly  and  of  conjugal  aflfection, 
which  want  is  generally  duly  repaid  by  a  similar! 
want  in  the  neglected  parties;  and,  though  stern 
authority  may  command  and  enforce  obedience  for  a 
while,  the  time  soon  comes  when  it  will  be  set  at{ 
defianee ;  and  when  such  a  father,  having  no  exam- 
ple, no  proofs  of  love,  to  plead,  complains  of  j!/tai| 
ingratitude,  the  silent  indifference  of  his  neighbours,! 
and  which  is  more  poignant,  his  own  heart,  will  telij 
him  that  his  complaint  is  unjust. 

254.  Thus  far  with  regard  to  working  people;! 
but  much  more  necessary  is  it  to  inculcate  thesel 
principles  in  the  minds  of  young  men  in  the  middle 


.  ^. 


lipids 
M 


^Letter 


v.l 


TO  A  FATHER. 


191 


rank  of  life,  and  to  be  more  particular,  in  their  ease, 
with  regard  to  the  care  due  to  very  young  children, 
for  here  servants  come  in ;  and  many  are  but  too 
prone  to  think,  that  when  they  have  handed  their 
children  over  to  well-paid  and  able  servants,  they 
have  done  their  duty  by  them,  than  which  there  can 
hardly  be  a  more  mischievous  error.  The  children 
of  the  poorer  people  are,  in  general,  much  fonder  of 
their  parents  than  those  of  the  rich  are  of  theirs : 
this  fondness  is  reciprocal ;  and  the  cause  is,  that 
the  children  of  the  former  have,  from  their  very 
birth,  had  a  greater  share  than  those  of  the  latter — 
of  the  personal  attention,  and  of  the  never-ceasing 
endearments  of  their  parents. 

255.  I  have  before  urged  upon  young  married 
men,  in  the  middle  walks  of  life,  to  keep  tlw  servants 
out  of  the  house  as  lon^  as  possible  ;  and  when  they 
must  come  at  last,  when  they  must  be  had  even  to 
assist  in  taking  care  of  children,  let  them  be  assist- 
ants in  the  most  strict  sense  of  the  word ;  let  them 
not  be  confided  in :  let  children  never  be  left  to  them    j^ 
ckne  ;  and  the  younger  the  child,  the  more  necessa- 
line  andl^*  "Sid  adherence  to  this  rule.    I  shall  be  told, 
ndshiscioyqflPP^^^^pS)  by  some  careless  father,  or  some  play-    ^ 
qe  of  absolute  ■Iia^'itiwg  mother,  that  female  servants  are  women, 
Mldren   is  not  l^nd  have  the  tender  feelings  of  women.  ^  Very  true ; 
s  seldom  wot-1*'^^^)  ^^  general,  as  good  and  kind  in  their  nature  as 
Such  absence  B^Jie  mother  herself.    But  they  are  not  the  mothers 
iuffal  affection,  (of  your  children,  and  it  is  not  in  nature  that  they 
d  bv  a  similar  Bshould  have  the  care  and  anxiety  adequate  to  the 
thoueh  stern  loecessity  of  the  case.    Out  of  the  immediate  care 
'obedience  foraWi^d  personal  superintendence  of  one  or  the  other  of 
will  be  set  atP^e  parents,  or  of  some  trusty  relation,  no  young 
vine  no  examlf^ild  ought  to  be  suffered  to  be,  if  there  be,  at  what- 
Dlains  of  /iiiair^'^  sacrifice  of  ease  or  of  property,  any  possibility 
his  neiehl)our9,wf  preventing  it ;  because,  to  insure,  if  possible,  the 
\  heart  will  tellwe^fect  form,  the  straight  limbs,  the  sound  body,  and 
^         '  Blie  sane  mind  of  your  children,  is  the  very  first  of 

wkinff  people  ;P1  your  duties.    To  provide  fortunes  for  them  ;  to   ^ 
lin^wate  thesewake  provision  for  their  future  fame ;  to  give  them 
In  in  the  middl«B*®  learning  necessary  to  the  calling  for  which  yoa 


I  direct,  and 
3Ction. 
amongst  all 
I  depends  on 
ys  that  day, 
or  even  one 
ist  (which  is 
tnd  dress  the 
ther  is  dress- 
the  Sunday- 
L  or  children. 
J  on  her  best ; 
at  cannot  be, 
e,  all  pass  the 
3  the  way  of 
and  from  this 
ost  moral  peo- 
iding  taxation 
Lg  a  sufficiency 
tiole,  good  and 
ider  the  degra- 


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192 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


destine  them  :  all  these  may  be  duties,  and  the  last 
is  a  duty ;  but  a  duty  far  greater  than,  and  prior  to, 
all  these,  is  the  duty  of  neglecting  nothing  within 
your  power  to  insure  them  a  sane  mind  in  a  sound 
and  undefm^med  body.  And,  good  God  !  how  many 
are  the  instances  of  defoi  med  bodies,  of  crooked 
limbs,  of  idiocy,  or  of  deplorable  imbecility,  pro- 
ceeding solely  from  young  children  being  left  to  the 
care  of  servants  !  One  would  imagine,  that  one 
single  sight  of  this  kind  to  be  seen,  or  heard  of,  in  a 
whole  nation,  would  be  sufficient  to  deter  parents 
from  the  practice.  And  what,  then,  must  those  pa- 
rents feel,  who  have  brought  this  life-long  sorrowing 
on  themselves  !  When  once  the  thing  is  done^  to 
repent  is  unavailing.  And  what  is  now  the  worth  of 
all  the  ease  and  all  the  pleasures,  to  enjoy  which 
the  poor  sufferer  was  abandoned  to  the  care  of  ser- 
vants ! 

256.  What !  can  I  plead  example,  then,  in  support 
of  this  rigid  precept  ?  Did  we,  who  have  bred  up  a 
family  of  children,  and  have  had  servants  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  nexier  leave  a  young 
child  to  the  care  of  servants  ?  Never ;  no,  not  for 
one  single  hour.  Were  we,  then,  tied  constantly  to 
the  house  with  them  ?  No  ;  for  we  sometimes 
took  them  out ;  but  one  or  the  other  of  us  was  al- 
ways with  them,  until,  in  succession,  they  were  able 
to  take  good  care  of  themselves ;  or  until  the  elder 
ones  werp  able  to  take  care  of  the  younger,  and 
then  they  sometimes  stood  sentinel  in  our  stead.! 
How  could  we  visit  then  ?  Why,  if  both  went,  we 
bargained  beforehand  to  take  the  children  with  us ; 
and  if  this  were  a  thing  not  to  be  proposed,  one  of 
us  went,  and  the  other  staid  at  home,  the  latter  be- 
ing very  frequently  my  lot.  From  this  we  never  once 
deviated.  We  cast  aside  all  consideration  of  conve- 
nience ;  all  calculations  of  expense  ;  all  thoughts  of 
pleasure  of  every  sort.  And,  what  could  have 
equalled  the  reward  that  we  have  received  for  our 
care  and  for  our  unshaken  resolution  in  this  re«| 
spect  ? 


v.l 


TO  A  FATHER. 


193 


and  the  last 
and  prior  to, 
thing  within 
iin  a  sotmd 
\  how  many 
,  of  crooked 
becility,  pro- 
ng left  to  the 
ine,  that  one 
heard  of,  in  a 
deter  parents 
lUSt  those  pa- 
ing  sorrowing 
ig  is  done^  to 
V  the  worth  of 
►  enjoy  which 
16  care  of  ser- 

len,  in  support 
lave  bred  up  a 
3rvants  during 
leave  a  young 
!r ;  no,  not  for 
I  constantly  to 
we  sometimes 
•  of  us  ipcw?  d- 
they  were  able 
vmtil  the  elder 
younger,  and 
in  our  stead. 
both  went,  we 
Idren  with  us; 
oposed,  one  of 
the  latter  be- 
swenei?eronce 
ation  of  conve- 
all  thoughts  of 
■at  could  have 
eceived  for  our 
on  in  thisre* 


257.  In  the  rearing  of  children,  there  is  resolution 
wanting  as  well  as  tenderness.  That  paient  is  not 
tnily  affectionate  who  wants  the  courcige  to  do  that 
which  is  sure  to  give  the  child  temporary  pain.  A 
great  deal,  in  providing  for  the  health  and  strength 
of  children,  depends  upon  their  being  duly  and  daily 
washed,  when  well,  in  cold  water  from  head  to  foot. 
Their  cries  testify  to  what  a  degree  they  dislike  this. 
They  squall  and  kick  and  twist  about  at  a  fine  rate ; 
and  many  mothers,  too  many,  neglect  this,  partly  from 
reluctance  to  encounter  the  squalling,  and  partly,  and 
much  too  often,  from  what  I  will  not  call  idleness^ 
but  to  which  I  cannot  apply  a  milder  term  than  neff- 
kct.  Well  and  duly  performed,  it  is  an  hour's  good 
tight  work  ;  for,  besides  the  bodily  labour,  which  is 
not  very  slight  when  the  child  gets  to  be  five  or  six 
months  old,  there  is  the  singbig^  to  overpmcer  the 
voice  of  the  child.  The  moment  the  strippmg  of  the 
child  used  to  begin,  the  singing  used  to  begin,  and 
the  latter  never  ceased  till  the  former  had  ceased* 
After  having  heard  this  go  on  with  all  my  children, 
j  Rousseau  taught  me  the  'philosophy  of  it.  I  happen- 
ed, by  accident,  to  look  mto  his  Emile,  and  there  I 
found  him  saying,  that  the  nurse  subdued  the  voice 
I  of  the  child  and  made  it  quiet,  hy  drowning  its  voice 
mhers,  and  thereby  making  it  perceive  that  it  could 
\wt  be  heardj  and  that  to  continue  to  cry  was  of  no 
mail.  "  Here,  Nancy,"  said  I,  (going  to  her  with 
|the  book  in  my  hand,)  "  you  have  been  a  preat  phi- 
losopher all  your  life,  without  either  of  us  know- 
I"  ing  it."  A  silent  nurse  is  a  poor  soul.  It  is  a  great 
disadvantage  to  the  childj  if  the  mother  be  of  a  very 
iBilent,  placid,  quiet  turn.  The  singing,  the  talking 
|to,  the  tossing  and  rolling  about,  that  mothers  in 
general  practise,  are  very  beneficial  to  the  children : 
Ihey  give  them  exercise,  awaken  their  attention,  an- 
mate  them,  and  rouse  them  to  action.  It  is  very 
m  to  have  a  child  even  carried  about  by  a  dull,  in- 
mimate,  silont  servant,  who  will  never  talk,  sing  or 
fhirrup  to  it ;  who  will  but  just  carry  it  about,  al- 
ways kept  ill  the  same  attitude,  and  seeing  and  hear- 

17 


Mi:ii| 


?:• 


.4 


y'k 


Jr'. 


11-    V 

■  l;.  ■    I 
'    ■     1,    ( 


i 

I-     r.    .S      / 


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i-S 


••*: ! 


m 


■iiii!/' 


.i 


\<\. 


|i::;!!; 


194 


COBBETT'3  ADVICE 


[Letter 


ing  nothing  to  give  it  life  and  spirit.  It  requires  no- 
thing but  a  duli  creature  like  this,  and  the  washing 
and  dressing  left  to  her,  to  give  a  child  the  rickets, 
and  make  it,  instead  of  being  a  strong  straight 
person,  tup-shinned,  bow-kneed,  or  hump-backed; 
besides  other  ailments  not  visible  to  the  eye.  By- 
and-by,  when  the  deformity  begins  to  appear,  the 
doctor  is  called  in,  but  it  is  too  late :  the  miscnief  is 
done ;  and  a  few  months  of  neglect  are  punished  by 
a  life  of  mortification  and  sorrow,  not  wholly  unac< 
companied  with  shame. 

258.  It  is,  therefore,  a  very  spurious  kind  of  ten- 
demess  that  prevents  a  mother  from  doing  the  things 
which,  though  disagreeable  to  the  child,  are  so  ne- 
cessary to  its  lasting  well-being.    The  washing  daily 
in  the  morning  is  a  great  thing ;  cold  water  winter 
or  summer,  and  this  never  left  to  a  servant,  who  has  I 
not,  in  such  a  case,  either  the  patience  or  the  cour- 
age that  is  necessary  for  the  task.    When  the  wash- 
ing is  over,  and  the  child  dressed  in  its  day-clothes, 
how  gay  and  cheerful  it  looks !    The  exercise  gives 
it  appetite,  and  then  disposes  it  to  rest :  and  it  sucks 
and  sleeps  and  grows,  the  delight  of  all  eyes,  and 
particularly  those  of  the  parents.     "  I  can't  bear 
that  squaUing P^  I  have  heard  men  say;  and  to 
which  I  answer,  that  "I  can't  bear  such  menn 
There  are,  I  thank  God,  very  few  of  them  ;  for,  if  I 
they  do  not  always  reason  about  the  matter  honestl 
nature  teaches  them  to  be  considerate  and  indulgentl 
towards  little  creatures  so  innocent  and  so  helplessl 
and  so  unconscious  of  what  they  do.    And  thel 
noise :  after  all,  why  should  it  distu7^h  a  man '?    Hel 
knows  the  exact  cause  of  it :  he  knows  that  it  is  the| 
unavoidable  consequence  of  a  great  good  to 
child,  and  of  course  to  him :  it  lasts  but  an  hour,  and] 
the  recompense  instantly  comes  in  the  looks  of  the 
rosy  child,  and  in  the  new  hopes  which  every  look 
excites.    It  never  disturbed  me,  and  my  occupation 
was  one  of  those  most  liable  to  disturbance  by  noise 
Many  a  score  of  papers  have  I  written  amidst  thd 
noise  of  children,  and  in  my  whole  life  never  bada 


m 


[Letter  I  V.l 


70  A  FATHER. 


195 


requires  no- 
the  washing 
i  the  rickets, 
>ong  straight 
ump-backed ; 
he  eye.    By- 
)  appear,  the 
tie  misciiief  13 
3  p\  inished  by 
wliolly  unac- 

s  kind  of  ten- 
jing  the  things  I 
lild,  are  so  ne- 
5  washing  daily 
d  water  winter 
^ant,  who  has 
BB  or  the  coui- 
ihen  the  wash- 
its  day-clothes, 
3  exercise  gives 
It :  and  it  sucks 
f  all  eyes,  and 
"  I  can't  bear 
n  say,  and  to 
ar  such  men."' 
f  them ;  for,  i(| 
5  matter  honest 
.6  and  indulgent 
and  so  helpless 
r  do.    And  the 
rb  a  man '?    Hel 
ws  that  it  is  the 
lat  good  to  his 
but  an  hour,  andj 
the  looks  of  th( 
rhich  every  lool 
my  occupatioi 
irbance  by  noisf 
itten  amidst  thi 
life  never  badi 


them  be  still.  When  they  grew  up  to  be  big  enough 
to  gallop  about  the  house,  I  have,  in  wet  weather, 
when  they  could  not  go  out,  written  the  whole  day 
amidst  noise  that  would  have  made  some  authors 
half  mad.  It  never  annoyed  me  at  all.  But  a  Scotch 
piper,  whom  an  old  lady,  who  lived  beside  us  at 
Brompton,  used  to  pay  to  come  and  play  a  Umg  tune 
every  day,  I  was  obliged  to  bribe  into  a  breach  of 
contract.  That  which  you  are  pleased  with^  how- 
ever noisy,  does  not  disturb  you.  That  which  is 
indifferent  to  you  has  not  more  effect.  The  rattle  of 
coaches,  the  clapper  of  a  mill,  the  fall  of  water,  leave 
your  mind  undisturbed.  But  the  sound  of  the  pipey 
awakening  the  idea  of  a  lazy  life  of  the  piper,  better 
paid  than  the  labouring  man,  drew  the  mind  aside 
from  its  pursuit ;  and,  as  it  really  was  a  nuisaiicey  oc- 
casioned by  the  money  of  my  neighbour,  I  thought 
myself  justified  in  abating  it  by  the  same  sort  of 
means. 

259.  The  cradle  is  in  poor  families  necessary  j  be- 
cause necessity  compels  the  mother  to  get  as  much 
time  as  she  can  for  her  work,  and  a  child  can  rock 
the  cradle.  At  first  we  had  a  cradle ;  and  I  rocked 
the  cradle,  in  great  part,  during  the  time  that  I  was 
writing  my  first  work,  that  famous  MaItre  d'An- 
GLOis,  which  has  long  been  the  first  book  in  Europe, 
as  well  as  in  America,  for  teaching  of  French  peo- 
ple the  English  language.  But  we  left  off  the  use 
of  the  cradle  as  soon  as  possible.  It  causes  sleep 
more,  and  oftener,  than  necessary :  it  saves  trouble ; 
but  to  take  trouble  was  our  duty.  After  the  second 
child,  we  had  no  cradle,  however  difficult  at  first  to 
do  without  it.  When  I  was  not  at  my  business,  it 
|was  generally  my  affair  to  put  the  child  to  sleep  : 
)metimes  by  sitting  with  it  in  my  arms,  and  some- 
|times  by  lying  down  on  a  bed  with  it,  till  it  fell 
isleep.  We  soon  found  the  good  of  this  method. 
""he  children  did  not  sleep  so  much,  but  they  slept 
jore  soundly.  The  cradle  produces  a  sort  of  dos- 
m^  or  dreaming  sleep.  This  is  a  matter  of  great 
Importance,  as  every  thing  must  be  that  has  any  in-f 


1: 


* 


,<' 


'l»ll 


•.:;l^ 


lii'lH! 


\\:\ 


1' 


>  1 


,f  i 


A  I 


I    ■  I 


'.|i.K 


'7;  i  I 


106 


C0BBETT*8  ADTICE 


[Letter 


iluence  on  the  health  of  children.  The  poor  must 
use  the  cradle,  at  least  until  they  haye  other  children 
big  enough  to  hold  the  baby,  and  to  put  it  to  sleep ; 
and  it  is  truly  wonderful  at  how  early  an  age  they, 
either  girls  or  boys,  will  do  this  business  faithfully 
and  well.  You  see  them  in  the  lanes,  and  on  the 
skirts  of  woods  and  commons,  lugging  a  baby  about, 
when  it  sometimes  weighs  half  as  much  as  the  nurse. 
The  poor  mother  is  frequently  compelled,  in  order 
to  help  to  get  bread  for  her  children,  to  go  to  a  dis- 
tance  from  home,  and  leave  the  group,  baby  and  all, 
to  take  care  of  the  house  and  of  themselves,  the  eld- 
est of  four  or  five^  not,  perhaps,  above  six  or  seven 
years  old ;  and  it  is  quite  surprising,  that,  consider- 
ing the  millions  of  instances  m  which  this  is  done 
in  England,  in  the  course  of  a  year,  so  very,  very 
few  accidents  or  injuries  arise  from  the  practice ; 
and  not  a  hundredth  part  so  many  as  arise  in  the 
comparatively  few  instances  in  which  children  are 
left  to  the  care  of  servants.  In  summer  time  you 
Bee  these  httle  groups  rolling  about  up  the  green,  or 
amongst  the  heath,  not  far  from  the  cottage,  and  at  I 
a  mile,  perhaps,  from  any  other  dwelling,  the  dog 
their  only  protector.  And  what  line  and  straight  | 
and  healthy  and  fearless  and  acute  persons  they  be- 
come !  It  used  to  be  remarked  in  Philadelphia,  when  I 
I  lived  there,  that  there  was  not  a  single  man  of  any| 
eminence,  whether  doctor,  lawyer,  merchant,  trader, 
or  any  thing  else,  that  had  not  been  born  and  bredl 
in  the  country,  and  of  parents  in  a  low  state  of  life. 
Examine  London,  and  you  will  find  it  much  about 
the  same.  From  this  very  childhood  they  are  from| 
necessity  entrusted  with  the  care  ofsomethivg'  valu- 
able. They  practically  learn  to  think,  and  to  calcu-, 
late  as  to  consequences.  They  are  thus  taught  toj 
remember  things ;  and  it  is  quite  surprising  what! 
memories  they  have,  and  how  scrupulously  a  littlej 
carter-boy  will  deliver  half-a-dozen  messages,  eachj 
of  a  different  purport  from  the  rest,  to  as  many  per-[ 
sons,  all  the  messages  committed  to  him  at  one  and! 
the  same  time,  and  he  not  knowing  one  letter  of  thel 


Vm 


v.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


W 


3  poor  must 

her  children 

t  it  to  sleep ; 

an  age  they, 

ss  faithfully 

s,  and  on  the 

a  baby  about, 

I  as  the  nurse. 

led,  in  order 

,0  go  to  a  dis- 

baby  and  all, 

elves,  the  eld- 

e  six  or  seven 

that,  consider- 

i  this  is  done 

so  ver3%very 

the  practice; 

as  arise  in  the 

1  children  are 

imer  time  you 

p  the  green,  or 

cottage,  and  at 

elling,  the  dog 

e  and  straight 

ersons  they  be- 

adelphia,  when 

gle  man  of  any 

erchant,  trader, 

1  born  and  bred 

ow  state  of  life. 

it  much  about 

d  they  are  from 

8(meihing  ro/w- 

ik,  and  to  calcu 

thus  taught  to 
surprising  what 
pulously  a  little 
messages,  each 
to  as  many  per- 
)  him  at  one  and 
one  letter  of  the 


alphabet  from  another.  When  I  want  io  remember 
something,  and  am  out  in  the  field,  and  cannot  write 
it  down,  I  say  to  one  of  the  men,  or  boys,  come  to 
me  at  such  a  time,  and  tell  mc  so  and  so.  He  is  sure 
to  do  it ;  and  I  therefore  look  upon  the  metnarari' 
dum  as  written  down.  One  of  these  children,  boy 
or  girl,  is  much  more  worthy  of  being  entrusted 
with  the  care  of  a  baby,  any  body's  baby,  than  a 
servant-maid  with  curled  locks  and  with  eyes  rolling 
about  for  admirers.  The  locks  and  the  rolling  eyes, 
very  nice,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  very  proper  things 
in  themselves;  but  incompatible  with  the  care  of 
your  baby,  Ma'am  ;  her  mind  being  absorbed  in  con- 
templating the  interesting  circumstances  which  are 
to  precede  her  having  a  sweet  baby  of  her  own ;  and 
a  sweeter  than  yours,  if  you  please,  Ma'am ;  or,  at 
least,  such  will  be  her  anticipations.  And  this  is  all 
right  enough  ;  it  is  natural  that  she  should  think  and 
feel  thus;  and  knowing  this,  you  are  admonished 
that  it  is  your  bounden  duty  not  to  delegate  this  sa- 
cred trust  to  any  body. 

260.  The  courage,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  so 
necessary  in  the  case  of  washing  the  children  in 
spite  of  their  screaming  remonstrances,  is,  if  possi- 
ble, more  necessary  in  cases  of  illness,  requiring  the 
application  of  medicine,  or  of  surgical  means  of 
cure.    Here  the  heart  is  put  to  the  test  indeed !  Here 
is  anguish  to  be  endured  by  a  mother,  who  has  to 
force  down  the  nauseous  physic,  or  to  apply  the 
tormenting  plaster !    Yet  it  is  the  mother,  or  the 
father,  and  more  properly  the  former,  who  is  to  per- 
form this  duty  of  exquisite  pain.    To  no  nurse,  to 
no  hireling,  to  no  alien  hand,  ought,  if  possible  to 
avoid  it,  this  task  to  be  committed.    I  do  not  admire 
those  mothers  who  are  too  tender-hearted  to  inflict 
|this  pain  on  their  children,  and  who,  therefore,  leave 
^t  to  be  inflicted  by  others.  Give  me  the  mother  who, 
hile  the  tears  stream  down  her  face,  has  the  reso- 
lution scrupulously  to  execute,  with  her  own  hands, 
he  doctor's  commands.    Will  a  servant,  will  any 
ireling,  do  this  ?    Committed  to  such  hands,  the 

17* 


*^v 


A 


'i.'  io 


,1' 


v^l 


mm    y 


.  Mrn'mMm. 

3'    w 


19d 


cobbbtt's  ADVrCB 


[Letter 


least  trouble  will  be  preferred  to  the  greater:  the 
thing  will,  in  general,  not  be  half  done  j  and  if  done, 
the  suffering  from  such  hands  is  far  greater  in  the 
mind  of  the  child  than  if  it  came  from  the  hands  of 
the  mother.  In  this  case,  above  all  others,  there 
ought  to  be  no  delegation  of  the  parental  office. 
Here  life  or  limb  is  at  stake ;  and  the  parent,  man 
or  woman,  who,  in  any  one  point,  can  neglect  his  or 
her  duty  here,  is  unworthy  of  the  name  of  parent. 
And  here,  as  in  all  the  other  instances,  where  good- 
ness in  the  parents  towards  the  children  give  such 
weight  to  their  advice  when  the  children  grow  up, 
what  a  motive  to  filial  gratitude !  The  children  who 
are  old  enough  to  observe  and  remember,  will  wit- 
ness this  proof  of  love  and  self-devotion  in  their 
mother.  Each  of  them  feels  that  she  has  done  the 
same  towards  them  all ;  and  they  love  her  and  ad- 
mire and  revere  her  accordingly. 

261.  This  is  the  place  to  state  my  opinions,  and 
the  result  of  my  experience,  with  regard  to  that 
fearful  disease  the  Small-Pox;  a  subject,  too,  toj 
which  I  have  paid  great  attention.    I  was  always,  i 
from  the  very  first  mention  of  the  thing,  opposed  | 
to  the  Cow-Pox  scheme.    If  efficacious  in  prevent- 
ing the  Small  Pox,  I  objected  to  it  merely  on  the  I 
score  of  its  beastliness.     There  are  sonil3  things, 
surely,  more  hideous  than  death,  and  more  resolute- 
ly  to  be  avoided  ;  at  any  rate,  more  .to  be  avoided 
than  the  mere  risk  of  suffering  death.   And,  amongst 
other  things,  I  always  reckoned  that  of  a  parent 
causing  the  blood,  and  the  diseased  blood  too,  of  a 
beast  to  be  put  into  the  veins  of  human  beings,  and 
those  beings  the  children  of  that  parent.    I,  there-l 
fore,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  pages  of  the  Register  ofj 
that  day,  most  strenuously  opposed  the  giving  ofl 
twenty  thousand  pounds  to  Jenner  out  of^e  iaxrn 
paid  in  great  part  by  the  working  people,  which  ll 
deemed  and  asserted  to  be  a  scandalous  waste  of  the| 
public  money. 

262.  I  contended,  that  this  beastly  application 
€0\{ld  notf  in  nature^  be  efficacious  in  jTreventivg  th 


V.J 


TO  A  FATHER. 


199 


SmaU'Pox;  and  that,  even  if  efficacious  for  that 
purpose,  it  was  wholly  unnecessary.  The  truth  of 
the  former  of  these  assertions  has  now  been  proved 
in  thoiisands  upon  thousands  of  imtances.  For  a 
long  time,  for  ten  years^  the  contrary  was  boldly  and 
brazenly  asserted.  This  nation  is  fond  of  quackery 
of  all  sorts ;  and  this  particular  quackery  having 
been  sanctioned  by  King,  Lords  and  Commons,  it 
spread  ^over  the  country  like  a  pestilence  borne  by 
the  winds.  Speedily  sprang  up  the  "  ROYAL  Jen- 
fierian  Institution,'^^  and  Branch  Institutions,  issuing 
from  the  parent  trunk,  set  instantly  to  work,  im- 
pregnating the  veins  of  the  rising  and  enlightened 
generation  with  the  beastly  matter.  "Gentlemen 
and  Ladies"  made  the  commodity  a  pocket-compa- 
nion ;  and  if  a  cottager's  child  (in  Hampshire  at 
least,)  even  seen  by  them,  on  a  common,  were  not 
pretty  quick  in  taking  to  its  heels,  it  had  to  carry  off 
more  or  less  of  the  disease  of  the  cow.  One  would 
have  thought,  that  one-half  of  the  cows  in  England 
must  have  been  tapped  to  get  at  such  a  quantity  of 
the  stuff. 

263.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  mad  work,  to  which 
the  doctors,  after  having  found  it  in  vain  to  resist, 
had  yielded,  the  real  smaU-pox,  in  its  worst  form, 
broke  out  in  the  town  of  Ringwood,  in  Hampshire, 
and  carried  off,  I  believe  (I  have  not  the  account  at 
hand,)  more  than  a  hundred  persons,  young  and  old, 
every  one  of  whom  had  had  the  cow-pox  "  so  nicely  /" 
And  what  was  now  said  ?  Was  the  quackery  ex-, 
ploded,  and  were  the  grantors  of  the  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  ashamed  of  what  they  had  done  ?  Not 
at  all :  the  failure  was  imputed  to  unskilful  operor 
tors  ;  to  the  stateness  of  the  matter:  to  its  not  being 
of  the  genuine  quality.  Admitting  all  this,  the 
scheme  stood  condemned;  for  the  great  advantages 
held  forth  were,  that  any  body  might  perform  the 
operation,  and  that  the  matter  was  ecery  where  abun- 
mnt  and  cost-free.  But  these  were  paltry  excuses ; 
the.mere  shuffles  of  quackery ;  for  what  do  we  know 
now  ?  Why,  that  in  hundreds  of  instances,  personi 


■■m 


■1   ■  I 


:<! 


\-     I 


ili:! 


ii;!i. 


200 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


;.';^'!, :;::. 


ii'il^JL 


i      'h 


h 


tjow-poxedby  JENNER  HIMSELF,  have  taken  the 
real  small  pox  afterwards,  and  have  either  died  from 
the  disorder,  or  narrowly  escaped  with  their  lives ! 
I  will  mention  two  instances,  the  parties  concerned 
being  living  and  well-known,  one  of  them  to  the 
whole  nation,  and  the  other  to  a  very  numerous  cir- 
cle in  the  higher  walks  of  life.  The  first  is  Sir 
Richard  Phillips,  so  well  known  by  his  able  wri- 
tings, and  equally  well  known  by  his  exemplary 
conduct  as  Sheriff  of  London,  and  by  his  life-long 
labours  in  the  cause  of  real  charity  and  humanity. 
Sir  Richard  had,  I  think,  two  sons,  whose  veins 
were  impregnated  by  the  grantee  himself.  At  any 
rate  he  had  one,  who  had,  several  years  after  Jenner 
had  given  him  the  insuring  matter,  a  very  hard 
struggle  for  his  life,  under  the  hands  of  the  good, 
old-fashioned,  seam-giving,  and  dimple-dipping  small 
pox.  The  second  is  Philip  Codd,  Esq.,  formerly  of 
Kensington,  and  now  of  Rumsted  Court,  near  Maid- 
stone, in  Kent,  who  had  a  son  that  had  a  very  nar- 
row escape  under  the  real  small-pox,  about  four 
years  ago,  and  who  also  had  been  cow-poxed  by  Jen- 
ner  himself.  The  last-mentioned  gentleman  I  have 
known,  and  most  sincerely  respected,  from  the  time 
of  our  both  being -about  eighteen  years  of  age.  When 
the  young  gentleman,  of  whom  I  am  now  speaking, 
was  very  young,  I  having  him  upon  my  knee  one 
day,  asked  his  kind  and  excellent  mother,  whether 
he  had  been  inoculated.  "  Oh,  no  !"  said  she,  "  we 
are  going  to  have  him  vaccinated?'*  Whereupon  I, 
going  into  the  garden  to  the  father,  said,  "  I  do  hope, 
Codd,  that  you  are  not  going  to  have  that  beastly 
cow-stuff  put  into  that  fine  boy."  "  Why,"  said  he, 
"you  see,  Cobbett,  it  is  to  be  done  by  Jenner  him- 
selp^  What  answer  I  gave,  what  names  and  epi- 
hets  I  bestowed  upon  Jenner  and  his  quackery,  1 
will  leave  the  reader  to  imagine. 

264.  Now,  here  are  instances  enough;  but,  every 
reader  has  heard  of,  if  not  seen,  scores  of  others. 
Young  Mr.  Codd  caught  the  small-pox  at  a  school; 
and  if  I  recollect  rightly,  there  were  several  other 


mi 


[Letter   I    V.J 


TO  A  PAtHEIU 


201 


^e  taken  the 
er  died  from 
their  lives  I 
!S  concerned 
ihem  to  the 
iimerous  cir- 
first  is  Sir 
tiis  able  wri- 
3  exemplary 
his  life-long 
id  humanity, 
whose  veins 
self.    At  any 
3  after  Jenner 
a  very  hard 
J  of  the  good, 
dipping  small 
.,  formerly  of 
rt,  near  Maid- 
id  a  very  nar- 
i,  about  four 
poxed  hy  Jen- 
tleman  I  have 
from  the  time 
of  age.  When 
low  speaking, 
my  knee  one 
►ther,  whether 
said  she,  "we 
Whereupon  I, 
1,  "I  do  hope, 
ire  that  beastly 
Vhy,"  said  he, 
y  Jenner  him- 
imes  andepi- 
lis  quackery,  1 

Th;  but,  every 
>res  of  others. 
►X  at  a  sclwol ; 
several  other 


"  vaccinf 'ed"  youths  who  did  the  same,  at  the  same 
time.    ^    ackery,  however,  has  always  a  sliuffle  left. 
Now  th*.c  the  cow-pox  has  been  provfi  to  be  no 
guarantee  against  the  small-pox,  it  makes  it "  wilder^^ 
when  it  comes !   A  pretty  shuffle,  indeed,  this !  You 
are  to  be  all  yaii?'  life  in  fear  of  it,  having  as  your 
sole  consolation,  that  when  it  comes  (and  it  may 
overtake  you  in  a  camp^  or  on  the  sea«),  it  will  be 
^^  milder  P  It  was  not  too  mild  to  kill  at  Ringwood, 
and  its  mildness,  in  the  case  of  young  Mr.  CodW, 
(lid  not  restrain  it  from  Uindhig  him  for  a  suitable 
number  of  days.  I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  alarm 
and  anxiety  of  the  father  and  mother  upon  this  oc- 
casion ;  both  of  them  the  best  of  parents,  and  both 
of  them  now  punished  for  having  yielded  to  this 
fashionable  quackery.  I  will  not  say,  justly  punish- 
ed ;  for  affection  for  their  children,  in  which  respect 
they  were  never  surpassed  by  any  parents  on  earth, 
was  the  cause  of  their  listening  to  the  danger-obvia- 
ting quackery.    This,  too,  is  the  case  with  other  pa- 
rents J  but  parents  should  be  under  the  influence  of 
reason  and  experience,  as  well  as  under  that  of  af- 
fection ;  and  now,  at  any  rate,  they  ought  to  set  this 
really  dangerous  quackery  at  nought. 

265.  And,  what  does  my  own  experience  say  on 
the  other  side  ?  There  are  my  seven  children,  the 
sons  as  tall,  or  nearly  so,  as  their  father,  and  the 
daughters  as  tall  as  their  mother;  all,  in  due  succes- 
sion, inoculated  with  the  good  old-fashioned  face- 
tearing  small-pox ;  neither  of  them  with  a  single 
mark  of  that  disease  on  their  skins ;  neither  of  them 
having  been,  that  we  could  perceive,  ill  for  a  single 
hour,  in  consequence  of  the  inoculation.  When  we 
were  in  the  United  States,  we  observed  that  the 
Americans  were  nefver  mar'ked  with  the  small-pox ; 
or,  if  such  a  thingj  were  seen,  it  was  very  rarely.  The 
cause  we  found  to  be,  the  universal  practice  of  having 
the  children  inoculated  at  the  breast,  and,  generally, 
at  a  month  or  six  weeks  old.  When  we  came  to  have 
children,  we  did  the  same.  I  believe  that  some  of 
ours  have  been  a  few  months  old  when  the  operation 


■  I"  I 

■rm 


'I'liiifc't 


f\ 


■  .' 


u:h':^ 


1h 


I'  ''  'if  1  ^ 


r:i-' 


202 


cobbett's  advice 


LLetter 


has  been  performed,  but  always  while  at  ihe  breast^ 
and  as  early  as  possible  after  the  expiration  of  six 
weeks  from  the  birth ;  sometimes  put  off  a  little 
While  by  some  slight  disorder  in  the  child,  or  on  ac- 
count of  some  circumstance  or  other ;  but,  with 
these  exceptions,  done  at,  or  before,  the  end  of  six 
weeks  from  the  birth,  and  always  at  the  breast,  AH  is 
then  pure .*  there  is  nothing  in  either  body  or  mind 
to  favour  the  natural  fury  of  the  disease.  We  always 
took  particular  care  about  the  source  from  which  the 
infectious  matter  came.  We  employed  medical  men, 
in  whom  we  could  place  perfect  confidence :  we  had 
their  solemn  word  for  the  matter  coming  from  some 
healthy  child;  and,  at  last,  we  had  sometimes  to  wait 
for  this,  the  cow-afFair  having  rendered  patients  of 
this  sort  rather  rare. 

266.  While  the  child  has  the  small-pox,  the  mo- 
ther should  abstain  from  food  and  drink,  which  she 
may  require  at  other  times,  but  which  might  be  too 
gross  just  now.  To  suckle  a  hearty  child  requires 
good  living ;  for,  besides  that  this  is  necessary  to  the 
mother,  it  is  also  necessary  to  the  child.  A  little  for- 
bearance, just  at  this  time,  is  prudent;  making  the 
diet  as  simple  as  possible,  and  avoiding  all  violent 
agitation  either  of  the  body  or  the  spirits ;  avoiding 
too,  if  you  can,  very  hot  or  very  cold  weather. 

267.  There  is  now,  however,  this  inconvenience, 
that  the  far  greater  part  of  the  present  young  women 
have  been  be-Jennered;  so  that  they  may  catch  tk 
beauty-killing  disease  from  their  babies  !  To  hear- 
ten them  up,  however,  and  more  especially,  I  confess, 
to  record  a  trait  of  maternal  affection  and  of  female 
heroism,  which  I  have  never  heard  of  any  thing  to 
surpass,  I  have  the  pride  to  say,  that  my  wife  had 
eight  children  inoculated  at  her  breast,  and  never  had 
the  small-pox  in  her  life.  I,  at  first,  objected  to  the 
inoculating  of  the  child,  but  she  insisted  upon  it,  and 
with  so  much  pertinacity  that  I  gave  way,  on  condi- 
tion that  she  would  be  inoculated  too.  This  was  done 
with  three  or  four  of  the  children,  I  think,  she  always 
being  reluctant  to  have  it  done,  saying  that  it  looked 


v.l 


TO  A  FATHER. 


203 


t  the  breast^ 
eitlon  of  six 
off  a  little 
Id,  or  on  ac- 
;  but,  with 
}  end  of  six 
trecLst.  All  is 
ody  or  mind 
.  We  always 
im  which  the 
medical  men, 
mce:  we  had 
ig  from  some 
Btimestoicaif 
d  patients  of 

-pox,  the  mo- 
ik,  which  she 
might  be  too 
child  requires 
jcessary  to  the 
d.  A  little  for- 
t;  making  the 
ing  all  violent 
rits;  avoiding 
ireather. 
nconvenience, 
young  women 
may  catch  tk 
es!    To  hear- 
iially,  I  confess, 
and  of  female 
f  any  thing  to 

my  wife  had 
,and7iei?er/iad 
objected  to  the 
ed  upon  it,  and 
way,  on  condi- 

This  was  done 
ink,  she  always 
that  it  looked 


like  distrusting  the  goodness  of  God.  There  was, 
to  be  sure,  very  little  in  this  argument ;  but  the  long 
experience  wore  away  the  ala*m;  and  there  she  is 
nwv,  having  had  eight  children  hanging  at  her  breast 
with  that  desolating  disease  in  them,  and  she  never 
having  been  affected  by  it  from  first  to  last.  All  her 
children  know,  of  course,  the  risk  that  she  volunta- 
rily incurred  for  them.  They  all  have  this  indubi- 
table proof,  that  she  valued  their  lives  above  her  own ; 
and  is  it  in  nature,  that  they  should  ever  wilfully  do 
any  thing  to  wound  the  heart  of  that  mother ;  and 
must  not  her  bright  example  have  great  effect  on 
their  character  and  conduct !  Now,  my  opinion  is, 
that  the  far  greater  part  of  English  or  American  wo- 
men, if  placed  in  the  above  circumstances,  would  do 
just  the  same  thing ;  and  I  do  hope,  that  those,  who 
have  yet  to  be  mothers,  will  seriously  think  of  put- 
ting an  end,  as  they  have  the  power  to  do,  to  the  dis- 
graceful and  dangerous  quackery,  the  evils  of  which 
I  have  so  fully  proved. 

268.  But  there  is,  in  the  management  of  babies, 
something  besides  life,  health,  strength  and  beauty ; 
and  something  too,  without  which  all  these  put  to- 
gether are  nothing  worth ;  and  that  is  sanity  of  mind. 
There  are,  owing  to  various  causes,  some  who  are 
hcfrn  ideots ;  but  a  great  many  more  become  insane 
from  the  misconduct,  or  neglect,  of  parents  j  and, 
generally,  from  the  children  being  committed  to  the 
care  of  servants.  I  knew,  in  Pennsylvania,  a  child, 
as  fine,  and  as  sprightly,  and  as  intelligent  a  child  as 
ever  was  born,  made  an  ideot  for  life  by  being,  when 
about  three  years  old,  shut  into  a  dark  closet,  by  a 
maid  servant,  in  order  to  terrify  it  into  silence.  The 
thoughtless  creature  first  menaced  it  with  sending  it 
to"f/ie  badplace^"  as  the  phrase  is  there;  and,  at 
last,  to  reduce  it  to  silence,  put  it  into  the  closet, 
shut  the  door,  and  went  out  of  the  room.  She  went 
back,  in  a  few  minutes,  and  found  the  child  in  a  fit. 
It  recovered  from  that,  but  was  for  life  an  ideot. 
When  the  parents,  who  had  been  out  two  days  and 
two  nights  on  a  visit  of  pleasure,  came  home,  they 


•■?'!^ 


HI: 


I 


I' 


mi 


't 


.  '*;, 


#■:  I 
fiii; 

lii 


M:    A 


hV'y 


■'-*'iii 


Hi 


204 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


were  told  that  the  child  had  had  a  Jit;  but,  they 
were  not  told  the  cause.  The  girl,  however,  who 
was  a  neighbour's  daughter,  being  on  her  death-bed 
about  ten  years  afterwards,  could  not  die  in  peace 
without  sending  for  the  mother  of  the  child  (now  be- 
come a  young  man)  and  asking  forgiveness  of  her. 
The  mother  herself  was,  however,  the  greatest  of- 
fender of  the  two :  a  whole  lifetime  of  sorrow  and 
of  mortification  was  a  punishment  too  light  for  her 
and  her  husband.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of 
human  beings  have  been  deprived  of  their  senses  by 
these  and  similar  means. 

»  269.  It  is  not  long  since  that  we  read,  in  the  news- 
papers, of  a  child  being  absolutely /cr/fed,  at  Birming- 
ham, I  think  it  was,  by  being  thus  frightened.  The 
parents  had  gone  out  into  what  is  called  an  evening 
party.  The  servants,  naturally  enough,  had  their 
party  at  home ;  and  the  mistress,  who,  by  some  un» 
expected  accident,  had  been  brought  home  at  an 
early  hour,  finding  the  parlour  full  of  company,  ran 
up  stairs  to  see  about  her  child,  about  two  or  three 
years  old.  She  found  it  with  its  eyes  open,  hutjixedj 
touching  it,  she  found  it  inanimate.  The  doctor  was 
sent  for  in  vain :  it  was  quite  dead.  The  maid  af- 
fected to  know  nothing  of  the  cause ;  but  some  one 
of  the  parties  assembled  discovered,  pinned  up  to 
the  curtains  of  the  bed,  a  horrid  Jtgure,  made  up 
partly  of  a  frightful  mask !  This,  as  the  wretched 
girl  confessed,  had  been  done  to  keep  the  child  quiet^ 
while  she  was  with  her  company  below.  When  one 
reflects  on  the  anguish  that  the  poor  little  thing  must 
have  endured,  before  the  life  was  quite  frightened 
out  of  it,  one  can  find  no  terms  sufficiently  strong  to 
express  the  abhorrence  due  to  the  perpetrator  of  this 
crime,  which  was,  in  fact,  a  cruel  murder ;  and,  if  it 
was  beyond  the  reach  of  the  law,  it  was  so  and  is  so, 
because,  as  in  the  cases  of  parricide,  the  law,  in 
making  no  provision  for  punishment  peculiarly  se- 
vere, ha&,  out  of  respect  to  human  nature,  supposed 
such  crimes  to  be  impossible.  But  if  the  girl  was 
criminal ;  if  death,  or  a  life  of  remorse,  was  her  due, 


f 


[Letter    I  t,] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


206 


;  but,  they 
vever,  who 
r  death-bed 
lie  in  peace 
id  (now  be- 
less  of  her. 
greatest  of- 
sorrow  and 
ight  for  her 
housands  of 
eir  senses  by 

in  the  news- 
J,atBirmmg- 
itened.    The 
;d  an  evening 
igh,  had  their 
,  by  some  un* 
;  home  at  an 
company,  ran 
It  two  or  three 
)en,  hwXjixed; 
he  doctor  was 
The  maid  af- 


what  was  the  due  of  her  parents,  and  especially  of 
the  mother !  And  what  was  the  due  of  thefatherj 
who  suffered  that  mother,  and  who,  perhaps,  tempt- 
ed her  to  neglect  her  most  sacred  duty  I 

270.  If  this  poor  child  had  been  deprived  of  its 
mental  faculties,  instead  of  being  deprived  of  its  life, 
the  cause  would,  in  all  likelihood,  never  have  been 
discovered.  The  insanity  would  have  been  ascribed 
to  "  brain-feveTy^^  or  to  some  other  of  the  usual 
causes  of  insanity ;  or,  as  in  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  instances,  to  some  unaccountable  cause. 
When  I  was,  in  Letter  V.,  paragraphs  from  227  to 
,  233,  both  inclusive,  maintaining  with  all  my  might, 
I  the  unalienable  right  of  the  child  to  the  milk  of  its 
mother,  I  omitted,  amongst  the  evils  arising  from 
banishing  the  child  from  the  mother's  breast,  to  men- 
tion, or,  rather,  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  to  men- 
jtion,  the  loss  of  reason  to  the  poor,  innocent  crea- 
tures, thus  banished.    And  now,  as  connected  with 
this  measure,  I  have  an  argument  of  ea^erience, 
enough  to  terrify  every  young  man  and  woman  up- 
on earth  from  the  thought  of  committing  this  offence 
against  nature.    I  wrote  No.  IX.  at  CAMBRmcE,  on 
iSunday,  the  28th  of  March ;  and,  before  I  quitted 
but  some  one  ■Shrewsbury,  on  the  14th  of  May,  the  following 
pinned  ^P  ^^  P^^ts  reached  my  ears.    A  very  respectable  trades- 

an,  who,  with  his  wife,  have  led  a  most  industrious 


■rV  ' 


-Mre,  made  up 
the  wretched 
;he  child  quiet^ 
,w.  "When  one 
tie  thing  must 
ite  frightened 
ently  strong  to 

etratorofthis 
;der;  and,  if  it 
as  so  and  is  so, 
le,  the  law,  m 

peculiarly  se- 
Iture,  supposed 
k  the  girl  was 
[e,  was  her  due, 


fife,  in  a  town  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  name,  said 

a  gentleman  that  told  it  to  me :  "I  wish  to  God  I 

"had  read  No.  IX.  of  Mr.  Cobbett's  Advice  to  Younq 

*Men  fifteen  years  ago !"    He  then  related,  that  he 

pd  had  ten  children,  all  put  out  to  be  suckled^  in  con- 

equence  of  the  necessity  of  his  having  the  mo- 

ler's  assistance  to  carry  on  his  business ;  and  that 

out  of  the  ten  had  come  home  ideots;  though  the 

est  were  all  sane,  and  though  insanity  had  never 

een  known  in  the  family  of  either  father  or  mother! 

[hese  parents,  whom  I  myself  saw,  are  very  clever 

eopic,  and  the  wife  singularly  industrious  and  ex- 

prt  in  her  affairs. 

%|.  Now  the  motive,  in  this  case,  unquestionably 

_    1% 


] 

i 

■  ■  ''i' 

f* 


li 


l^:;:l^f 


1    'I 
I 


. ..( 
1 

■I  is 
1^ 


i^  f 


if      •    '«! 


•r-; 


mJ 


41,:  f''"" 


ill  ^^1 


206 


•»« 


COBBETT's  ADVICB 


iLettcr 


m 

bo 
tic 

T\ 

cal 
ho^ 
of 
froi 
2 
wh 
bod 
star 
sha] 
mer 


was  good ;  it  was  that  the  mother's  valuable  time 
might,  as  much  as  possible,  be  devoted  to  the  earn- 
ing of  a  competence  for  her  children.  But,  alas! 
what  is  this  competence  to  these  two  unfortunate  be- 
ings !  And  what  is  the  competence  to  the  rest,  when 
put  in  the  scale  against  the  mortification  that  they 
must,  all  their  lives,  suffer  on  account  of  the  insani- 
ty of  their  brother  and  sister,  exciting,  as  it  must, 
in  all  their  circle,  and  even  in  themselves^  suspicions 
of  their  own  perfect  soundness  of  mind !  When 
weighed  against  this  consideration,  what  is  all  the 
wealth  in  the  world !  And  as  to  the  parents,  where  j 
are  they  to  find  compensation  for  such  a  calamity,  j 
embittered  additionally,  too,  by  the  reflection,  that  it 
was  in  their  power  to  prevent  it,  and  that  nature,  I 
with  loud  voice,  cried  out  to  them  to  prevent  itllbe 
Money  !  Wealth  acquired  in  consequence  of  this  I  than 
banishment  of  these  poor  children  j  these  victims  of  ■  Eva 
this,  I  will  not  call  it  avarice,  but  over-eager  love  of  I  mus 
gain  !  wealth  thus  acquired !  What  wealth  can  con-i  gard 
sole  these  parents  for  the  loss  of  reason  in  these!  hors 
children !  Where  is  the  father  and  the  mother,  who!  j«w^i 
would  not  rather  see  their  children  ploughing  inithey 
other  men's  fields,  and  sweeping  other  men's  houses,!  have 
than  led  about  parks  or  houses  of  their  own,  objects!  Eng] 
of  pity  even  of  the  menials  procured  by  their!  and 
wealth  1 

272.  If  what  I  have  now  said  be  not  sufficient  ti 
deter  a  man  from  suffering  any  consideration, 
matter  whatj  to  induce  him  to  delegate  the  care  oi 
his  children,  when  very  young,  to  any  body  whom- 
soever, nothing  that  I  can  say  can  possibly  have  thai 
effect ;  and  I  will,  therefore,  now  proceed  to  offei 
my  advice  with  regarc^  to  the  management  of  chil- 
dren when  they  get  beyond  the  danger  of  being  era 
zed  or  killed  by  nurses  or  servants. 

273.  We  here  come  to  the  subject  of  education  i 
the  true  sense  of  that  word,  which  is  rearing  «/), 
seeing  that  the  word  comes  from  the  Latin  Mml 
which  means  to  breed  up,  or  to  rear  up.    I  shall, awall,  ]^ 
terwardB,  have  to  speak  of  education  'n\  the  now  coin#oldes 


'■^ 


hors( 
us  St 
fine; 
27f 
the  A 
land  s 
Iforefa 
nth( 
Inglj 
ew 
m . 
ml 
tount 


LLetteri  v.] 


TO  A   FATHER. 


307 


mon  acceptation  of  the  word,  which  makes  it  mean, 
book-learning'.  At  present,  I  am  to  speak  of  educa- 
Hon  in  its  true  sense,  as  the  French  (who,  as  well  as 
we,  take  the  word  from  the  Latin)  always  use  it. 
They,  in  their  agricultural  works,  talk  of  the  "  edu- 
cation du  Cochon,  de  PAllouette,  &c.,"  that  is  of  the 
hf^^  the  /arJt,  and  so  of  other  animals ;  that  is  to  say, 
of  the  manner  of  breeding  them,  or  rearing  them  up, 
from  their  being  little  things  'till  they  be  of  full  size. 
274.  The  first  thing,  in  the  rearing  of  children, 
who  have  passed  from  the  baby-state,  is,  as  to  the 
body,  plenty  of  good  food  ;  and,  as  to  the  miwd,  con- 
stant good  example  m  the  parents.    Of  the  latter  I 

^^^^ shall  speak  more  by-and-by.  With  regard  to  the  for- 

^d" that  nature,!  nier,  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  that  children 
to  prevent  it  1 1  be  well  fed;  and  there  never  was  a  greater  error 
jQuence  of  this  I  than  to  .jelieve  that  they  do  not  need  good  food, 
these  victims  of  I  Every  one  knows,  that  to  have  fine  horses,  the  cdta 
er-eager  love  of  I  must  be  kept  well,  and  that  it  is  the  same  with  re- 
wealth  cancon-1  gard  to  all  animals  of  every  sort  and  kind.  The  fine 
•eason  in  these!  horses  and  cattle  and  sheep  all  come  from  the  rich 
the  mother,  who!  pstures.  To  have  them  fine,  it  is  not  sufficient  that 
n  ploughing  inlthey  have  plenty  ^food  when  young,  but  that  they 
er  men's  houses,!  have  rich  food.  Were  there  no  land,  no  pasture,  in 
leir  own  objects!  England,  but  such  as  is  found  in  Middlesex,  Essex, 
cured  by  theirf""  ^  ^'"'  ^  ^^—  i- 


valuable  time 
d  to  the  earn- 
i.    But,  alas! 
nfortunate  be- 
khe  rest,  when 
tion  that  they 
of  the  insani- 
\g,  as  it  must, 
ues,  suspicions 
mind  I    When 
vhat  is  all  the 
parents,  where 
ich  a  calamity, 
jflection,  thatitl 


not  sufficient  i 
lonsideration,  % 
rate  the  care  o: 


and  Surrey,  we  should  see  none  of  those  coach- 
horses  and  dray-horses,  whose  height  and  size  make 
us  stare.    It  is  the  keep  when  young  that  makes  the 
fine  animal. 
275.  There  is  no  other  reason  for  the  people  in 
nv^hody  w/iom-lthe  American  States  bemg  generally  so  much  taller 
ssibly  have  thatland  stronger  than  the  people  in  England  are.    Their 
roceed  to  offejforefathers  went,  for  the  greater  part,  from  England, 
gement  of  chil#n  the  four  Northern  States  they  went  wholly  from 
er  of  being  cra-fngland,  and  then,  on  their  landing,  they  founded  a 
Jew  London,  a  new  Falmouth,  a  new  Plymouth,  a 
It  of  education  iiftew  Portsmouth,  a  new  Dover,  a  new  Yarmouth,  a 
is  rearing  ttpj^w  Lynn,  a  new  Boston,  and  a  new  Hull,  and  the 
he  Latin  edMCO^^wtry  itself  they  called,  and  their  descendants  still 
I  shall,8f»aW)  New  England.    This  country  of  the  best  and 
inthenowcoDw^^^est  seamen,  and  of  the  most  moral  and  happy 


!il. 


*» 


1 

ii 


t'.!  ..■ 


206 


COBBETT^S  ADVICB 


[Letter 


i.Mi  j  - 


r*iy 


people  in  the  world,  is  also  the  country  *  the  tallest 
and  ablest-bodied  men  in  the  world.  And  why  ? 
Because,  from  their  very  birth,  they  have  an  (Aun- 
dance  of  good  food  ;  not  only  oifiod,  but  of  rich 
food.  Even  when  the  child  is  at  the  breast,  a  strip 
of  beef-steak,  or  something  of  that  description,  as 
big  and  as  long  as  one's  finger,  is  put  into  its  hand. 
When  a  baby  gets  a  thing  in  its  hand,  the  first  thing 
It  does  is  to  poke  some  part  of  it  into  its  mouth.  It 
cannot  bite  the  meat,  but  its  gums  squeeze  out  the 
juice.  When  it  has  done  with  the  breast,  it  eats 
meat  constantly  twice,  if  not  thrice,  a  day.  And 
this  abundance  of  good  food  is  the  cause,  to  be  sure, 
of  the  superior  size  and  strength  of  the  people  of 
that  country. 

276.  Nor  is  this,  in  any  point  of  view,  an  unim- 
portant matter.  A  tall  man  is,  whether  as  labourer, 
carpenter,  bricklayer,  soldier  or  sailor,  or  almost 
anything  else,  worth  more  than  a  short  man :  he  can 
look  over  a  higher  thing ;  he  can  reach  higher  and 
wider ;  he  can  move  on  from  place  to  place  faster ; 
in  mowing  grass  or  corn  he  takes  a  wider  swarth,  in  | 
pitching  he  wants  a  shorter  prong ;  in  making  buil- 
dings he  does  not  so  soon  want  a  ladder  or  a  scaf- 1 
fold ;  in  fighting  he  keeps  his  body  farther  from  the 
point  of  his  sword.  To  be  sure,  a  man  may  be  tall 
and  weak :  but,  this  is  the  exception  and  not  the 
rule :  height  and  weight  and  strength,  in  men  as  in 
speechless  animals,  generally  go  together.  Aye, 
and  in  enterprise  and  courage  too,  the  powers  of  the 
body  have  a  great  deal  to  do.  Doubtless  there  are,! 
have  been,  and  always  will  be,  great  numbers  ofl 
small  and  enterprizing  and  brave  men ;  but  it  is  mi\ 
in  nature,  that,  generally  speaking,  those  who  are! 
conscious  of  their  inferiority  in  point  of  bodilyl 
strength,  should  possess  the  boldness  of  those  who| 
have  a  contrary  description. 

277.  To  what  but  this  difference  in  the  size  andl 
strength  of  the  opposing  combatants  are  we  to  as-l 
cribe  the  ever-to-be-blushed-^at  events  of  our  last  warl 
against  the  United  States !    The  hearts  of  our  sea*! 


'I! 


[Letter  I   V.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


209 


t  '  the  tallest 
And  why? 
ave  an  abun- 
,  but  of  rich 
breast,  a  strip 
escription,  as 
into  its  hand, 
the  first  thing 
its  mouth.    It 
ueeze  out  the 
breast,  it  eats 
,  a  day.    And 
ise,  to  be  sure, 
the  people  of 

iew,  an  unim- 
ler  as  labourer, 
lor,  or  almost 
rtman:  he  can 
ich  higher  and 
to  place  faster; 
tider  8warth,in 
n  making  buil- 
adder  or  a  scaf- 
arther  from  the 
lan  woybetall 
m  and  not  the 
thj  in  men  as  in 
ogether.     Aye, 
le  powers  of  the 
rtless  there  are, 
eat  numbers  of 
en;  but  it  is no( 
those  who  are 
3oint  of  bodily 
ss  of  those  who 

_,  In  the  size  and 
ts  are  we  to  as- 
9  of  our  last  war 

larts  of  our  sea- 


men and  soldiers  were  as  good  as  those  of  the  Yan- 
kees :  on  both  sides  they  had  sprung  from  the  same 
stock :  on  both  sides  equally  well  supplied  with  all 
the  materials  of  war :  if  on  either  side,  the  superior 
skill  was  on  ours :  French,  Dutch,  Spaniards,  all  had 
confessed  our  superior  prowess :  yet,  when,  with  our 
whole  undivided  strength,  and  to  that  strength  add- 
ing the  flush  and  pride  of  victory  and  conquest, 
crowned  even  in  the  capital  of  France  j  when,  with 
all  these  tremendous  advantages,  and  with  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  looking  on,  we  came  foot  to  foot 
and  yard-arm  to  yard-arm  witii  the  Americans,  the 
result  was  such  as  an  English  pen  refuses  to  describe. 
What,  then,  was  the  great  cause  of  this  result, 
which  filled  us  with  shame  and  the  world  with  as- 
tonishment 1  Not  the  want  of  courage  in  our  men. 
There  were,  indeed,  some  moral  causes  at  work  ;  but 
the  main  cause  was,  the  great  superiority  of  size  and 
of  bodily  strength  on  the  part  of  the  enemy's  sol- 
diers and  sailors.  It  was  so  many  men  on  each  side ; 
but  it  was  men  of  a  different  size  and  strength ;  and, 
on  the  side  of  the  foe  men  accustomed  to  daring  en- 
terprise from  a  consciousness  of  that  strength. 

278.  Why  are  abstinence  and  fasting  enjoined  by 
the  Catholic  Church  ?  Why,  to  make  men  humble, 
meek,  and  tame  ;  and  they  have  this  effect  too :  this 
is  visible  in  whole  nations  as  well  as  in  individuals. 
So  that  good  food,  and  plenty  of  it,  is  not  more  ne- 
cessary to  the  forming  of  a  stout  and  able  body 
than  to  the  forming  of  an  active  and  enterprizing 
spirit.  Poor  food,  short  allowance,  while  they  check 
the  growth  of  the  child's  body,  check  also  the  dar- 
ing of  the  mind ;  and,  therefore,  the  starving  or 
pinching  system  ought  to  be  avoided  by  all  means. 
I  Children  shpuld  eat  ofteriy  and  as  much  as  they  like 
at  a  time.  They  will,  if  at  full  heap,  never  take,  of 
miin  food,  more  than  it  is  good  for  them  to  take. 
They  may,  indeed,  be  stuffed  with  cakes  and  sweet 
\thinffs  till  they  be  ill,  and,  indeed,  until  they  bring 
|on  dangerous  disorders :  but,  of  meat  plainly  and 

T  cooked,  and  of  bread,  they  will  never  swallow 

18* 


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210 


cobbett's  advicb 


[Letter 


.  the  tenth  part  of  an  ounce  more  than  it  is  necessary 
for  them  to  swallow.  Ripe  fruit,  or  cooked  fruit,  if 
no  sweetenirjg  take  place,  will  never  hurt  them ;  but, 
when  they  once  get  a  taste  for  sugary  stuff,  and  to 
cram  down  loads  of  garden  vegetables ;  when  ices, 
creams,  tarts,  raisins,  almonds,  all  the  endless  pam- 
perings  come,  the  doctor  must  soon  follow  with  his 
drugs.    The  blowing  out  of  the  bodies  of  children 

*  with  tea,  coffee,  soup,  or  warm  liquids  of  any  kind, 
is  very  bad :  these  have  an  effect  precisely  like  that 
which  is  produced  by  feeding  young  rabbits,  or  pigs, 
or  other  young  animals  upon  watery  vegetables :  it 
makes  them  big-bellied  and  bareboned  at  the  same 
time ;  and  it  effectually  prevents  the  frame  from  be- 
coming strong.    Children  in  health  want  no  drink 
other  than  skim  milk,  or  butter-milk,  or  whey ;  and, 
if  none  of  those  be  at  hand,  water  will  do  very  well, 
provided  they  have  plenty  of  good  meat.    Cheese 
and  butter  do  very  well  for  part  of  the  day.    Pud- 
dings and  pies ;  but  always  without  augar^  which, 
say  what  people  will  about  the  wholesomenesa  of  it, 
is  not  only  of  no  use  in  the  rearing  of  children,  but  I 
injurious :  it  forces  an  appetite :  like  strong  drink,  \ 
it  makes  daily  encroachments  on  the  taste :  it  whee- 
dles down  that  which  the  stomach  does  not  want :  it  I 
finally  produces  illness :  it  is  one  of  the  curses  of 
the  country ;  for  it,  by  taking  off  the  bitter  of  thef 
tea  and  coffee,  is  the  great  cause  of  sending  down 
into  the  stomach  those  quantities  of  warm  water  by 
which  the  body  is  debilitated  and  deformed  and  the 
mind  enfeebled.    I  am  addressing  myself  to  personal 
in  the  middle  walk  of  life ;  but  no  parent  can  be  sunl 
that  his  child  will  not  be  compelled  to  labour  hardl 
for  its  daily  bread :  and  then,  how  vast  is  the  differ-[ 
€nce  between  one  who  has  been  pampered  with! 
sweets  and  one  who  has  been  reared  on  plain  foodi 
and  simple  drink ! 

279.  The  next  thing  after  good  and  p>lentiful  andl 
plain  food  is  good  air.  This  is  not  within  the  reachl 
of  every  one ;  but,  to  obtain  it  is  worth  great  sacri-r 
fices  in  other  respects.    We  know  that  there  arei 


[Letter  I  VJ 


'"*)* 


TO  A  FATHER. 


tsn 


,  Is  necessary 
)oked  fruit,  if 
rt  them  j  but, 
^  stuff,  and  to 
i;  when  ices, 
endless  pam- 
llow  with  his 
es  of  children 
J  of  any  kind, 
wisely  like  that 
abbits,  or  pigs, 
vegetables:  it 
ed  at  the  same 
frame  from  be- 
want  no  drink 
or  whey ;  and, 
11  do  very  well, 
meat.    Cheese 
the  day.    Ptid- 

sugar^  which, 
€8(ymene8S  of  it, 
Df  children,  but 
3  strong  drink, 
J  taste:  itwhee- 
oes  not  want:  it  I 
►f  the  curses  of 
le  bitter  of  the 
if  sending  down 

warm  water  by 
eformed  and  the 
lyself  to  persons 
irent  can  be  mm 
ito  labour  hard 
vast  is  the  differ- 

pampered  withl 

ed  on  plain  foodi 

dnd  plentiful  and 
within  the  reach 

irorth  great  sacril 
w  that  there  are 


tmdls  which  will  cause  instant  death ;  we  know, 
that  there  are  others  which  will  cause  death  in  afem 
years  ;  and,  therefore,  we  know  that  it  is  the  mity 
of  parents  to  provide,  if  possible,  against  this  dan- 
ger to  the  health  of  their  oflfspring.  To  be  sure, 
when  a  man  is  so  situated  that  he  cannot  give  his 
children  sweet  air  without  putting  himself  into  a  jail 
for  debt :  when,  in  short,  he  has  the  dire  choice  of 
sickly  children,  children  with  big  heads,  small  limbs, 
and  ricketty  joints :  or  children  sent  to  the  poor- 
house  :  when  this  is  his  hard  lot,  he  must  decide  for 
the  former  sad  alternative :  but  before  he  will  con- 
vince me  that  this  is  his  lot,  he  must  prove  to  me, 
that  he  and  his  wife  expend  not  a  penny  in  the  de- 
coration of  their  persons ;  that  on  his  table,  morn- 
ing, noon,  or  night,  nothing  ever  comes  that  is  not 
the  produce  of  English  soil;  that  of  his  time  not 
one  hour  is  wasted  in  what  is  called  pleasure ;  that 
down  his  throat  not  one  drop  or  morsel  ever  goes, 
unless  necessary  to  sustain  life  and  health.  How 
many  scores  and  how  many  hundreds  of  men  have 
I  seen ;  how  many  thousands  could  I  go  and  point 
out,  to-morrow,  in  London,  the  money  expended  on 
whose  guzzlings  in  porter,  grog  and  wine,  would 
keep,  and  keep  well,  in  the  country,  a  considerable 
part  of  the  year,  a  wife  surrounded  by  healthy  chil- 
dren, instead  of  being  stewed  up  in  some  alley,  or 
back  room,  with  a  parcel  of  poor  creatures  about 
her,  whom  she,  though  their  fond  mother,  is  almost 
ashamed  to  call  hers !  Compared  with  the  life  of 
such  a  woman,  that  of  the  labourer,  however  poor, 
is  paradise.  Tell  me  not  of  the  necessity  of  provi- 
ding money  for  them,  even  if  you  waste  not  a  far- 
thing :  you  can  provide  them  with  no  money  equal 
in  value  to  health  and  straight  limbs  and  good  looks : 
these  it  is,  if  within  your  power,  your  bmtnden  duty 
to  provide  for  them :  as  to  providmg  them  with  mo- 
ney, you  deceive  yourself ;  it  is  your  own  avarice^ 
or  vanity,  that  you  are  seeking  to  gratify,  nnd  not 
to  ensure  the  good  of  your  children.  Their  most 
precious  possession  is  health  and  strength  ;  and  you 


'1' 


,\ 


I 


212 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


!   :r   ( 


f:     ii 


\\:  . 


!  ■■■^! 


■H/i  \ 


;*■>' 


''!  .    il"'^'^ 


t         » 


have  no  right  to  run  the  risk  of  depriving  them  of 
these  for  the  sake  of  heaping  together  money  to 
bestow  on  them :  you  have  the  desire  to  see  them 
rich :  it  is  to  gratify  yourself  thsX  you  act  in  such  a 
case ;  and  you,  however  you  may  deceive  yourself, 
are  guilty  oiinjustice  towards  them.  You  would  be 
ashamed  to  see  them  wUJwut  fortune ;  but  not  at  all 
ashamed  to  see  them  without  straight  limbs,  with- 
out colour  in  their  cheeks,  without  strength,  without 
activity,  and  with  only  half  their  due  portion  of 
reason. 

280.  Besides  sweet  air^  children  want  exercise. 
Even  when  they  are  babies  in  arms,  they  want  toss- 
ing and  pulling  about,  and  want  talking  and  singing 
to.  They  should  be  put  upon  their  feet  by  slow 
degrees,  according  to  the  strength  of  their  legs: 
and  this  is  a  matter  which  a  good  mother  will  at- 
tend to  with  incessant  care.  If  they  appear  to  be 
likely  to  squint^  she  will,  always  when  they  wake 
up,  and  frequently  in  the  day.  take  care  to  present 
some  pleasing  object  right  he/ore^  and  never  on  th 
side  of  their  fece.  If  they  appear,  when  they  begin 
to  tidk,  to  indicate  a  propensity  to  stammer^  she 
will  stop  them,  repeat  the  word  or  words  slowly 
herself,  and  get  them  to  do  the  same.  These  pre- 
cautions are  amongst  the  most  sacred  of  the  duties 
of  parents ;  for,  remember,  the  deformity  is^  life; 
a  thought  which  will  fill  every  good  parent's  heart 
with  solicitude.  All  swaddling  and  tig^ht  covering 
are  mischievous.  They  produce  distortions  of  some 
sort  or  other.  To  let  children  creep  and  roll  about 
till  they  get  upon  their  legs  themselves  is  a  very 
good  way.  I  never  saw  a  native  American  with 
crooked  limbs  or  hump-back,  and  never  heard  any 
man  say  that  he  had  seen  one.  And  the  reason  is, 
doubtless,  the  loose  dress  in  which  children,  from  the 
moment  of  their  birth,  are  kept,  the  good  food  that 
they  always  have,  and  the  sweet  air  that  they  breathe 
in  consequence  of  the  absence  of  all  dread  of  poverty 
on  the  part  of  the  parents. 

281.  As  to  bodily  exercise,  they  will,  when  they 


[Letter  I    V.| 


TO  A  FATHER. 


S13 


iring  them  of 
er  money  to 
to  see  them 
act  in  such  a 
}ive  yourself, 
^ou  would  be 
but  not  at  all 
t  limbs,  witli- 
ngth,  without 
le  portion  of 

vant  exercise. 
ley  want  toss- 
ig  and  singing 
feet  by  slow 
of  their  legs: 
nother  will  at- 
y  appear  to  be 
len  they  wake 
care  to  present 
id  never  on  the 
Eien  they  begin 
stammer^  she 
words  slowly 
e.    These  pre- 
d  of  the  duties 
nity  is  for  life; 
1  parent's  heart 
tight  covering 
ortions  of  some 
)  and  roll  about 
3lves  is  a  very 
American  with 
iver  heard  any 
1  the  reason  is, 
ildren,  from  the 
good  food  that 
lat  they  breathe 
read  of  poverty 

will,  when  they 


begin  to  get  about,  take,  if  you  let  them  alone^  Just 
as  much  of  it  as  nature  bids  them,  and  no  more. 
That  is  a  pretty  deal.  Indeed,  if  they  be  in  health ; 
and,  it  is  your  duty,  now,  to  provide  for  their  ta- 
king of  that  exercise,  when  they  begin  to  be  what 
are  called  boys  and  girls,  in  a  way  that  shall  tend  to 
give  them  the  greatest  degree  of  pleasure,  accompa- 
nied with  the  smallest  risk  of  pain :  in  other  words, 
to  make  their  lives  as  pleasant  as  you  possibly  can,  I 
have  always  admired  the  sentiment  of  Rousseau  upon 
this  subject.  "  The  boy  dies,  perhaps,  at  the  age  of 
"  ten  or  twelve.  Of  what  use,  then,  all  the  restraints, 
"  all  the  privations,  all  the  pain,  that  you  have  in- 
"flicted  upon  him?  He  falls,  and  leaves  your 
"  mind  to  brood  over  the  possibility  of  your  having 
"  abridged  a  life  so  dear  to  you."  I  do  not  recollect 
the  very  words ;  but  the  passage  made  a  deep  im- 
pression upon  my  mind,  just  at  the  time,  too,  when  I 
was  about  to  become  a  father ;  and  I  was  resolved 
never  to  bring  upon  myself  remorse  from  such  a 
cause;  a  resolution  from  which  no  importunities, 
coming  from  what  quarter  they  might,  ever  induced 
me,  in  one  single  instance,  or  for  one  single  moment, 
to  depart.  I  was  resolved  to  forego  all  the  means  of 
making  money,  all  the  means  of  living  in  any  thing 
like  fashion,  all  the  means  of  obtaining  fame  or  dis- 
tinction, to  give  up  every  thing,  to  become  a  com- 
mon labourer,  rather  than  make  my  children  lead  a 
life  of  restraint  and  rebuke ;  I  could  not  be  sure  that 
my  children  would  love  me  as  they  loved  their  own 
lives ;  but  I  was,  at  any  rate,  resolved  to  deserve 
such  love  at  their  hands ;  and,  in  possession  of  that, 
I  felt  that  I  could  set  calamity,  of  whatever  descrip- 
tion, at  defiance. 

282.  Now,  proceeding  to  relate  what  was,  in  this 
respect,  my  line  of  conduct,  I  am  not  pretending 
that  every  man,  and  particularly  every  man  living  in 
a  town,  can,  in  all  respects,  do  as  I  did  in  the  rear- 
ing up  of  children.  But,  in  many  respects,  any 
man  may,  whatever  may  be  his  state  of  life.  For  I 
did  not  lead  an  idle  life  j  I  had  to  work  constantly 


m 


M 


ryu 


,::1 


f 


Mi 

Wmi  li 

In 

H  fll  m 

1  ■■ 

m^i 

mTOf^'ll 

|t-'  ' 

K^^Bu^'*  m 

i-'  I 

l^^^pMl 

.1  . 

^R^f^^'^'  1 

pidp'|u 

^'1 

I'  ,^m^,'t 

''•i 

V'W  • 

1 

,  1 

■J 

1:1 


';  I 


214 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


for  the  means  of  living;  my  occupation  required 
unremitted  attention ;  I  had  nothing  but  my  labour 
to  rely  on ;  and  I  had  no  friend,  to  whom,  in  case 
of  need,  I  could  fly  for  assistance :  I  always  saw 
the  possibility,  and  even  the  probability,  of  being 
totally  ruined  by  the  hand  of  power ;  but,  happen 
what  would,  I  was  resolved,  that,  as  long  as  I  could 
cause  them  to  do  it,  ray  children  should  lead  happy 
lives ;  and  happy  lives  they  did  lead,  if  ever  children 
did  in  this  whole  world. 

283.  The  first  thing  that  T  did,  when  the  fourth 
child  had  come,  was  to  get  into  the  country,  and  so 
far  as  to  render  a  going  backward  and  forward  to 
London,  at  short  intervals,  quite  out  of  the  question. 
Thus  was  health,  the  greatest  of  all  things,  provided 
for,  as  far  as  I  was  able  to  make  the  provision.  Next. 
my  being  always  at  home  was  secured  as  far  as  pos- 
sible; always  with  them  to  set  an  example  of  early 
rising,  sobriety,  and  application  to  something  or 
other.  Children,  and  especially  boys,  will  have 
some-out-of-doors  pursuits ;  and  it  was  my  duty  to 
lead  them  to  choose  such  pursuits  as  combined  fu- 
ture utility  with  present  innocence.  Each  his 
flower-bed,  little  garden,  plantation  of  trees ;  rabbits, 
dogs,  asses,  horses,  pheasants  and  hares;  hoe?, 
spades,  whips,  guns ;  always  some  object  of  lively 
interest,  and  as  much  earnestness  and  bustle  about 
the  various  objects  as  if  our  living  had  solely  de- 
pended upon  them.  I  made  every  thing  give  way  to 
the  great  object  of  making  their  lives  happy  and  in- 
nocent. I  did  not  know  what  they  might  be  in  time, 
or  what  might  be  my  lot ;  but  I  was  resolved  not  to 
be  the  cause  of  their  being  unhappy  then,  let  what 
might  become  of  us  afterwards.  I  was,  as  I  am,  of 
opinion,  that  it  is  injurious  to  the  mind  to  press 
hook  learning  upon  it  at  an  eariy  age :  I  always  felt 
pain  for  poor  little  things,  set  up,  before  "  company," 
to  repeat  verses,  or  bits  of  plays,  at  six  or  eight 
years  old.  I  have  sometimes  not  known  whi-jh  way 
to  look,  when  a  tnother  (and,  too  often,  a  father,) 
whom  I  could  not  but  respect  on  account  of  her 


LLetter  I    ^'1 


TO  A  FATHER. 


215 


r."  :i! 


Lion  required 
lUt  my  labour 
^hom,  in  case 
[  always  saw 
lity,  of  being 
;  but,  happen 
)ng  as  I  could 
Id  lead  happy 
;  ever  children 

len  the  fourth 
untry,  and  so 
ad  forward  to 
if  the  question, 
lings,  provided 
ovision.  Next. 
1  as  far  as  pos- 
ample  of  early 

something  or 
)ys,  will  have 
'as  my  duty  to 
s  combined  fu- 
;e.  Each  his 
trees;  rabbits, 

hares;  hoes, 
)bject  of  lively 
nd  bustle  about 

had  solely  de- 
ing  give  way  to 
J  happy  and  in- 
light  be  in  time, 

resolved  not  to 
y  then,  let  what 
y^^as,  as  I  am,  of 

mind  to  press 
e:  I  always  felt 
)re"  company," 

at  six  or  eight 
own  whi'h  way 
often,  a  father,) 

account  of  her 


fondness  for  her  child,  has  forced  the  feeble-voiced 
eighth  wonder  of  the  world,  to  stand  with  its  little 
hand  stretched  out,  spouting  the  soliloquy  of  Hamlet, 
or  some  such  thing.  I  remember,  on  one  occasion, 
a  Uttle  pale-faced  creature,  only  five  years  old,  was 
brought  in,  after  the  feeding  part  of  the  dinner  was 
over,  first  to  take  his  regular  half-glass  of  vintner's 
brewings,  commonly  called  wine,  and  then  to  treat 
us  to  a  display  of  his  wonderful  genius.  The  sub- 
ject was  a  speech  of  a  robust  and  bold  youth,  in  a 
Scotch  play,  the  title  of  which  I  have  forgotten,  but 
the  speech  began  with,  "  My  name  is  Norval :  on 
the  Grampian  Hills  my  father  fed  his  flocks..." 
And  this  in  a  voice  so  weak  and  distressing  as  to 
put  me  in  mind  of  the  plaintive  squeaking  of  little 
pigs  when  the  sow  is  lying  on  them.  As  we  were 
going  home  (one  of  my  hDys  and  I)  he,  after  a  si- 
lence of  half  a  mile  perhaps,  rode  up  close  to  the 
side  of  my  horse,  and  said,  "  Papa,  where  be  the 
''  Grampian  Hills  ?"  "  Oh,"  said  I,  "  they  are  in 
"Scotland;  poor,  barren,  beggarly  places,  covered 
"with  heath  and  rushes,  ten  times  as  barren  as 
"  Sheril  Heath."  "  But,"  said  he,  «  how  could  that 
"  little  boy's  father  feed  his  flocks  there,  then  ?"  I 
was  ready  to  tumble  off  the  horse  with  laughing. 

284.  I  do  not  know  any  thing  much  more  distress^ 
ing  to  the  spectators  than  exhibitions  of  this  sort. 
Every  one  feels  not  for  the  child,  for  it  is  insensible 
to  the  uneasiness  it  excites,  but  for  the  parents,  whose 
amiable  fondness  displays  itself  in  this  ridiculous 
manner.  Upon  these  occasions,  no  one  knows  what 
to  say,  or  whither  to  direct  his  looks.  The  parents, 
and  especially  the  fond  mother,  looks  sharply  round 
for  the  so-evidently  merited  applause,  as  an  actor  of 
the  name  of  Munden,  whom  I  recollect  thirty  years 
ago,  used,  when  he  had  treated  us  to  a  witty  shrug 
of  his  shoulders,  or  twist  of  his  chin,  to  turn  "his  face 
up  to  the  gallery  for  the  clap.  If  I  had  to  declare  on 
my  oath  which  have  been  the  most  disagreeable  mo- 
ments of  my  life,  I  verily  believe,  that,  after  due-con- 
sideration, I  should  fix  upon  those,  in    hich  parents, 


'M 


ir 


\,r^M 


1 


MpM. 


fe;'..,!'-  • 


•:■  m 


:^-'^'  m< 


.    '    »    ■      :(  i       ■  ,1! 


216 


A 


•^ 


cobbett's  Advice 


(Xetter 


whom  I  have  respected,  have  made  me  endure  exhi- 
bitions like  these;  for,  this  is  your  choice,  to  be  in^ 
sincere^  or  to  give  offence. 

285.  And,  as  towards  the  child,  it  is  to  be  unjust, 
thus  to  teach  it  to  set  a  high  value  on  trifling,  not  to 
say  mischievous,  attainments ;  to  make  it,  whether 
it  be  in  its  natural  disposition  or  not,  vain  and  con- 
ceited. The  plaudits  which  it  receives,  in  such  cases, 
puffs  it  up  in  its  own  thoughts,  sends  it  out  into  the 
world  stuffed  with  pride  and  insolence,  which  must 
and  will  be  extracted  out  of  it  by  one  means  or  ano- 
ther ;  and  none  but  those  who  have  had  to  endure 
the  drawing  of  firmly-fixed  teeth,  can,  I  take  it,  have 
an  adequate  idea  of  the  painfulness  of  this  opera- 
tion. Now,  parents  have  no  right  thus  to  indulge 
their  own  feelings  at  the  risk  of  the  happiness  of 
their  children. 

286.  The  great  matter  is,  however,  the  spoiling  of 
the  mind  by  forcing  on  it  thoughts  which  it  is  not  h 
to  receive.  We  know  well,  we  daily  see,  that  in  men. 
as  well  as  in  other  animals,  the  body  is  rendered 
comparatively  small  and  feeble  by  being  heavily 
loaded,  or  hard  worked,  before  it  arrive  at  size  and 
strength  proportioned  to  such  load  and  such  work. 
It  is  just  so  with  the  mind :  the  attempt  to  put  old 
heads  upon  young  shoulders  is  just  as  unreasonable 
as  it  would  be  to  expect  a  colt  six  months  old  to  be 
able  to  carry  a  man.  The  mind,  as  well  as  the  body, 
requires  time  to  come  to  its  strength;  and  the  way 
to  have  it  possess,  at  last,  its  natural  strength,  is  not 
to  attempt  to  load  it  too  soon  ;  and  to  favour  it  in  its 
progress  by  giving  to  the  body  good  and  plentiful 
food,  sweet  air,  and  abundant  exercise,  accompanied 
with  as  little  discontent  or  uneasiness  as  possible.  It 
is  universally  known,  that  ailments  of  the  body  are, 
in  many  cases,  sufficient  to  destroy  the  mind,  and  to 
debilitate  it  in  innumerable  instances.  It  is  equally 
well  known,  that  the  torments  of  the  mind  are,  in 
mpny  cases,  suflicient  to  destroy  the  body.  This,  then, 
being  so  well  known,  is  it  not  the  first  duty  of  a  fa- 
ther to  secure  to  his  children,  if  possible,  sound  and 


"» ' 


TO  A  FATHER. 


217 


endure  exhi- 
ice,  to  be  ir^ 

to  be  unjust  J 
rifling,  not  to 
e  it,  whether 
irain  and  con- 
in  such  cases, 
t  out  into  the 
I,  which  must 
means  or  ano- 
Lad  to  endure 
I  take  it,  have 
)f  this  opera- 
lus  to  indulge 
i  happiness  of 

the  spoiling  of 
lich  it  is  not  fit 
e,  that  in  men. 
ly  is  rendered 
being  heavily 
ve  at  size  and 
id  such  work, 
mpt  to  put  old 
3  unreasonable 
onths  old  to  be 
ell  as  the  body, 
l;  and  the  way 
strength,  is  not 
favour  it  in  its 
and  plentiful 
3,  accompanied 
I  as  possible.  It 
)f  the  body  are, 
le  mind,  and  to 
.    It  is  equally 
\e  mind  are,  in 
idy.  This,  then, 
3t  duty  of  a  fa- 
ible,  sound  and 


strong  bodies  1  Lord  Bacon  says,  that  '^a  sound 
"  mind  in  a  sound  body  is  the  greatest  of  God's  bles- 
"sings."  To  see  his  children  possess  these,  therefore, 
ought  to  be  the  first  object  with  every  father;  an  ob- 
ject which  I  cannot  too  often  endeavour  to  fix  in  his 
mind. 

287.  I  am  to  speak  presently  of  that  sort  of  learn' 
ing'  which  is  derived  from  books,  and  which  is  a  mat- 
ter by  no  means  to  be  neglected,  or  to  be  thought 
little  of,  seeing  that  it  is  the  road,  not  only  to  fame, 
but  to  the  means  of  doing  great  good  to  one's  neigh- 
bours and  to  one's  country,  and,  thereby,  of  adding 
to  those  pleasant  feelings  which  are,  in  other  words, 
our  happiness.    But,  notwithstanding  this,  I  must 
jhere  insist,  and  endeavour  to  impress  my  opinion 
upon  the  mind  of  every  father,  that  his  children's 
happiness  ought  to  be  Yiisfirst  object ;  that  book-learn-' 
ing^  if  it  tend  to  militate  against  this,  ought  to  be 
disregarded ;  and  that,  as  to  money,  as  to  fortune,  as 
to  rank  and  title,  that  father  who  can,  in  the  destina- 
tion of  his  children,  think  of  them  more  than  of  the 
m^piness  of  those  children,  is,  if  he  be  of  sane  mind, 
a  great  criminal.    Who  is  there,  having  lived  to  the 
age  of  thirty,  or  even  twenty,  years,  and  having  the 
lordinary  capacity  for  observation  j  who  is  there,  be- 
ling  of  this  description,  who  must  not  be  convinced 
[of  the  inadequacy  of  riches  and  what  are  called 
hmurs  to  insure  happiness  7  Who,  amongst  all  the 
classes  of  men,  experience,  on  an  average,  so  little  of 
\ml  pleasure,  and  so  much  of  real  pain  as  the  rich 
and  the  lofty  1    Pope  gives  us,  as  the  materials  for 
kippiness,  "  health,  peace,  and  competence?^  Aye,  but 
kvhat  is  peace,  and  what  is  competence  ?  If,  hy  peace, 
pe  mean  that  tranquillity  of  mind  which  innocence 
kid  good  deeds  produce,  he  is  right  and  clear  so  far; 
(or  we  all  know  that,  without  health,  which  has  a 
yell-known  positive  meaning,  there  can  be  no  hap- 
piness.   But  competence  is  a  word  of  unfixed  mean- 
ig.   It  may,  with  some,  mean  enough  to  eat,  drink, 
|ear  and  be  lodged  and  warmed  with;  but,  with 
Ithers,  it  may  include  horses,  carriages,  and  footmen 


-I 


T 


v!i 

'r 
•    J' 

!• 

I 

I 

'  ':   i 


I'i 


218 


COBBETTiS  AOYICB 


[Letter 


,:l'!' 


■''  r    .\j 


ill.}  i  1 '"  :■ 


iii 


i  I, 


,!,i|| 


:  'I       ■:      '     i  •- 


laced  over  from  top  to  toe.  So  that,  here,  we  have 
no  guide ;  no  standard ;  and,  indeed,  there  can  be 
none.  But  as  every  sensible  father  must  know  that 
the  possession  of  riches  do  not,  never  did,  and  never 
can,  afford  even  a  chance  of  additional  happiness,  it 
is  his  duty  to  inculcate  in  the  minds  of  his  children 
to  make  no  sacrifice  of  principle,  of  moral  obligation 
of  any  sort,  in  order  to  obtain  riches,  or  distinction; 
and  it  is  a  duty  still  more  imperative  on  him,  not  to 
expose  them  to  the  risk  of  loss  of  health,  or  diminu- 
tion of  strength,  for  purposes  which  have,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  the  acquiring  of  riches  in  view, 
whether  for  himself  or  for  them. 

288.  With  these  principles  immoveably  implanted 
in  my  mind,  I  became  the  father  of  a  family,  and  on 
these  principles  I  have  reared  that  family.  Being 
myself  fond  of  book-learning,  and  knowing  well  its 
powers,  I  naturally  wished  them  to  possess  it  too ; 
but  never  did  I  impose  it  upon  any  one  of  them.  My 
first  duty  was  to  make  them  healthy  and  strong,  if  I 
could,  and  to  give  them  as  much  enjoyment  of  life 
as  possible.  Born  and  bred  up  in  the  sweet  air  my- 
self,  I  was  resolved  that  they  should  be  bred  up  in  it 
too.  Enjoying  rural  scenes  and  sports,  as  I  had  done, 
when  a  boy,  as  much  as  any  one  that  ever  was  born, 
I  was  resolved,  that  they  should  have  the  same  en- 
joyments tendered  to  them.  When  I  was  a  very  lit- 
tle boy,  I  was,  in  the  barley-sowing  season,  going 
along  by  the  side  of  a  field,  near  Waverly  Abbey; 
the  primroses  and  blue-bells  bespangling  the  banks 
on  both  sides  of  me ;  a  thousand  linnets  singing  in 
a  spreading  oak  over  my  head ;  while  the  jingle  ofj 
the  traces  and  the  whistling  of  the  ploughboys  sa- 
luted my  ear  from  over  the  hedge;  and,  as  it  were  to 
snatch  me  from  the  enchantment,  the  hounds,  at  that 
instant,  having  started  a  hare  in  the  hanger  on  the 
other  side  of  the  field,  came  up  scampering  over  it 
in  full  cry,  taking  me  after  tlieru  many  a  mile.  I  was 
not  more  than  eight  years  old ;  but  this  particular 
scene  has  presented  itself  to  my  mind  many  times 
every  year  from  that  day  to  this.    I  always  enjoy  it 


v.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


219 


over  again ;  and  I  was  resolved  to  give,  If  possible 
the  same  enjoyments  to  my  children. 

289.  Men's  circumstances  are  so  various ;  there  is 
such  a  great  variety  in  their  situations  in  life,  their 
business,  the  extent  of  their  pecuniary  means,  the 
local  state  in  which  they  are  placed,  their  internal  re- 
sources ;  the  variety  in  all  these  respects  is  so  great, 
that,  as  applicable  to  every  family,  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  lay  down  any  set  of  rules,  or  maxims, 
touching  every  matter  relating  to  the  management 
and  rearing  up  of  children.  In  giving  an  account, 
therefore,  of  my  own  conduct,  in  this  respect,  I  am 
not  to  be  understood  as  supposing,  that  every  father 
can,  or  ought,  to  attempt  to  do  the  same;  but  while 
it  will  be  seen,  that  there  are  many,  and  these  the 
most  important  parts  of  that  conduct,  that  all  fathers 
may  imitate,  if  they  choose,  there  is  no  part  of  it 
which  thousands  and  thousands  of  fathers  might  not 
adopt  and  pursue,  and  adhere  to,  to  the  very  letter. 

290.  I  effected  every  thing  without  scolding,  and 
even  without  command.  My  children  are  a  family 
of  scholars,  each  sex  its  appropriate  species  of  learn- 
ing ;  and,  I  could  safely  take  my  oath,  that  I  never 
ordered  a  child  of  mine,  son  or  daughter,  to  look  into 
a  book,  in  my  life.  My  two  eldest  sons,  when  about 
eight  years  old,  were,  for  the  sake  of  their  health, 
placed  for  a  very  short  time,  at  a  Clergyman's  at 
MicHELDEVER,  auQ  my  eldest  daughter,  a  little  older, 

I  at  a  school  a  few  miles  from  Botley,  to  avoid  taking 
them  to  London  in  the  winter.  But,  with  these  ex- 
I  ceptions,  never  had  they,  while  children,  teacher  of 
any  description ;  and  I  never,  and  nobody  else  ever, 
taught  any  one  of  them  to  read,  write,  or  any  thing 
else,  except  in  conversation;  and,  yet,  no  man  was 
ever  more  anxious  to  be  the  father  of  a  family  of 
[clever  and  learned  persons. 

291.  I  accomplished  my  purpose  indirectly.  The 
jfirst  thing  of  all  was  health,  which  was  secured  by 
|the  deeply-interesting  and  never-ending  sports  of  the 

'  Id  and  pleasures  of  the  garden.    Luckily  these 
Ithings  were  treated  of  in  hooka  and  pictures  of  end- 


-.1 


220 


COBBBTT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


. ,  i  1 

1, 

4  y ' 

■k 

1         v.. 

f   !;!'i 

'¥ . 

'•ii 

ai|,.: 

¥^'- 

y 

■          !'     ■    'i 

less  variety ;  so  that  on  loet  days^  in  long  eceninga^ 
these  came  into  play.  A  large,  strong  table,  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  their  mother  sitting  at  her  work, 
used  to  be  surrounded  with  them,  the  baby,  if  big 
enough,  set  up  in  a  high  chair.  Here  were  ink- 
stands, pens,  pencils,  India  rubber,  and  paper,  all  in 
abundance,  and  every  one  scrabbled  about  as  he  or 
she  pleased.  There  were  prints  of  animals  of  all 
sorts ;  books  treating  of  them :  others  treating  of 
gardening,  of  flowers,  of  husbandry,  of  hunting, 
coursing,  shooting,  fishing,  planting,  and,  in  short, 
of  every  thing,  with  regard  to  which  we  had  some- 
thing to  do.  One  would  be  trying  to  imitate  a  bit  of 
my  writing,  another  drawiing  the  pictures  of  some 
of  our  dogs  or  horses,  a  third  poking  over  Bewkli's 
Quadrupeds^  and  picking  out  what  he  said  about 
them :  but  our  book  of  never-failing  resource  was 
the  French  Maison  RusTiauE,  or  Farm-House. 
"which,  it  is  said,  was  the  book  that  first  temptea 
BuQUESNOis  (I  think  that  was  the  name),  the  famous 
physician,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  to  learn  to 
read.  Here  are  all  the  four-legged  animals^  from 
the  horse  down  to  the  mouse,  portraits  and  all ;  all 
the  hirds^  reptiles^  insects  ;  all  the  modes  of  rearing, 
managing,  and  using  the  tame  ones;  all  the  modes 
of  taking  the  wild  ones,  and  of  destroying  those  that 
are  mischievous;  all  the  various  traps,  springs,  nets; 
all  the  implements  of  husbandry  and  gardening ;  all 
the  labours  of  the  field  and  the  garden  exhibited,  as  I 
well  as  the  rest,  in  plates ;  and,  there  was  I,  in  my 
leisure  moments,  to  join  this  inquisitive  group,  to 
read  the  French,  and  tell  them  what  it  meaned  in 
English,  when  the  picture  did  not  sufficiently  explain 
itself.  I  never  have  been  without  a  copy  of  this 
book  for  forty  years,  except  during  the  time  that  I 
was  fleeing  from  the  dungeons  of  Castlereagh  and 
SiDMOCTH,  in  1817;  and,  when  I  got  to  Long  Island,! 
the  first  book  Ibought  was  another  Maison  RusTmnE.!  bu 
t^.  What  need  had  we  of  schools  7  What  need! wl 
ef  teachers?  What  need  of  scolding  B.nd  force,  \m^^ 
induce  childreu  to  read^  writq,  and  love  books  ?  What  I  spi 


[Letter!    ^'^ 


TO  A  FATHER. 


221 


I  long  eceningSy 
[ig  table,  in  the 
[ng  at  her  work, 
he  baby,  if  big 
iere  were  ink- 
md  paper,  all  in 
about  as  he  or 
'  animals  of  all 
lers  treating  of 
ry,  of  hunting, 
r,  and,  in  short, 
h  we  had  some- 
D  imitate  a  bit  of 
Dictuies  of  some 
ig  over  Bewick^s 
i  he  said  about 
ig  resource  was 
[)r   Farm-House. 
at  first  tempted 
ime),  the  famous 
LIV.,  to  learn  to 
d  animalSj  from 
-aits  and  all ;  all 
modes  of  rearing, 
s;  all  the  modes 
roying  those  that 
ps,  springs,  nets; 
id  gardening; all 
•den  exhibited,  as 
lere  was  I,  in  my 
lisitive  group,  to 
hat  it  meanedin 
ifficiently  explain 
t  a  copy  of  this 
gthe  time  that  I  j 
Castlereagh  and 
)t  to  Long  Island, 

VIaISON  RUSTIQUE. 

)l8  7  What  need] 
ivg  and /orw,  to 
3ve books?  What 


need  of  oardSf  dice,  or  of  any  games,  to  "XrtU  time  ;" 
but,  in  fact,  to  implant  in  the  infant  heart  a  love  of 
gamng,  one  of  the  most  destructive  of  all  1  nan 
vices  ?  We  did  not  want  to  "  kUl  time :"  we  *vere 
always  bttsy,  wet  weather  or  dry  weather,  winter  or 
summer.  There  was  no  force  in  any  case ;  no 
ammand;  no  authority;  none  of  these  was  ever 
wanted.  To  teach  the  children  the  habit  of  early 
rising  was  a  great  object ;  and  every  one  knows  how 
young  people  cling  to  their  beds,  and  how  loth  they 
are  to  go  to  those  beds.  This  was  a  capital  matter  j 
because,  here  were  industry  and  health  both  at  stake. 
Yet,  I  avoided  command  even  here ;  and  merely  of- 
fered a  reward.  The  child  that  was  down  stairs 
first,  was  called  the  hhns.for  that  day  ;  and,  further, 
sat  at  rny  right  hand  at  dinner.  They  soon  disco- 
vered, that  to  rise  early,  they  must  go  to  bed  early; 
and  thus  was  this  most  important  object  secured, 
with  regard  to  girls  as  well  as  boys.  Nothing  more 
inconvenient,  and,  indeed,  more  disgusting,  than  to 
have  to  do  with  girls,  or  young  women,  who  lounge 
in  bed :  "  A  little  more  sleep,  a  little  more  slumber, 
a  little  more  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep."  Solo- 
mon knew  them  well :  he  had,  I  dare  say,  seen  the 
breakfast  cooling,  carriages  and  horses  and  servants 
waiting,  the  sun  coming  burning  on,  the  day  wast- 
ing, the  night  growing  dark  too  early,  appointments 
broken,  and  the  objects  of  journeys  defeated ;  and 
all  this  from  the  lolloping  in  bed  of  persons  who 
ought  to  have  risen  with  the  sun.  No  beauty,  no  mo- 
desty, no  accomplishments,  are  a  compensation  for 
the  effects  of  laziness  in  women ;  and,  of  all  the 
proofs  of  laziness,  none  is  so  unequivocal  as  that  of 
lying  late  in  bed.  Love  makes  men  overlook  this 
vice  (for  it  is  a  vice),  for  a  while  ;  but,  this  does  not 
last  for  life.  Besides,  health  demands  early  rising : 
the  management  of  a  house  imperiously  demands  it ; 
I  but  health,  that  most  precious  possession,  without 
which  there  is  nothing  else  worth  possessing,  de- 
mands it  too.  The  morning  air  is  the  most  whole- 
wrae  and  strengthening:  even  in  crowded  cities, 

9* 


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OOBBETT'a  ADVICB 


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[Letter 


men  might  do  pretty  well  with  the  aid  of  the  morn- 
ing air ;  but,  how  are  they  to  rise  early,  if  they  go 
to  bed /a<6? 

293.  But,  to  do  the  things  I  did,  you  must  love 
home  yourself;  to  rear  up  children  in  this  manner, 
you  must  live  with  them  ;  you  must  make  them,  too, 
feel,  by  your  conduct,  that  you  prefer  this  to  any 
other  mode  of  passing  your  time.  All  men  cannot 
lead  this  sort  of  life,  but  many  may ;  and  all  much 
more  than  many  do.  My  occupation,  to  be  sure, 
was  chiefly  carried  on  at  home ;  but,  I  had  always 
enough  to  do ;  I  never  spent  an  idle  week,  or  even 
day,  in  my  whole  life.  Yet  I  found  time  to  talk  with 
them,  to  walk,  or  ride,  about  with  them  ;  and  when 
forced  to  go  from  home,  always  took  one  or  more 
with  me.  You  must  be  good-tempered  too  with 
them ;  they  must  like  your  company  better  than  any 
other  person's  j  they  must  not  wish  you  away,  not 
fear  your  coming  back,  not  look  upon  your  depar- 
ture as  a  holiday.  When  my  business  kept  me  away 
from  the  «;ra&6/iW-table,  a  petition  often  came,  that 
I  would  go  and  tcSk  with  the  group,  and  the  bearer 
generally  was  the  youngest,  being  the  most  likely  to 
succeed.  When  I  ^r^'nt  from  home,  all  followed  me 
to  the  outer-gate,  and  looked  after  me,  till  the  car- 
riage, or  horse,  was  out  of  sight.  At  the  time  ap- 
pointed for  my  return,  all  were  prepared  to  meet  me; 
and  if  it  were  late  at  night,  they  sat  up  as  long  as 
they  were  able  to  keep  their  eyes  open.  This  love 
of  parents,  and  this  constant  pleasure  at  home,  made 
them  not  even  think  of  seeking  pleasure  abroad; 
and  they,  thus,  were  kept  from  vicious  playmates 
and  early  corruption. 

294.  This  is  the  age,  too,  to  teach  children  to  be  i 
trust-worthy,  and  to  be  merciful  and  humane.  We 
lived  in  a  garden  of  about  two  acres,  partly  kitch- 
en-garden with  walls,  partly  shrubbery  and  trees, 
and  partly  grass.  There  were  the  'peojches,  as  tempt- 
ing as  any  that  ever  grew,  and  yet  as  safe  from  fin- 
gers as  if  no  child  were  ever  in  the  garden.  It  was  I 
not  necessary  to  forbid.  The  blackbirds,  the  thrush- 


TO  A  FATHER^  ^ 


22a 


'I 


on,  to  be  sure, 
t,  I  had  always 


and  the  bearer 


68,  the  white-throats,  and  even  that  very  shy  bird 
the  goldfinch,  had  their  nests  and  bred  up  their 
young-ones,  in  great  abundance,  all  about  this  little 
spot,  constantly  the  play-place  of  six  children  ;  and 
one  of  the  latter  had  its  nest,  and  brought  up  its 
young-ones,  in  a  raspherry-bush,  within  two  yards 
of  a  walk,  and  at  the  time  that  we  were  gathering 
the  ripe  raspberries.   We  give  dog's,  and  justly,  great 
credit  for  sagacity  and  memory  ;  but  the  following 
two  most  curious  instances,  which  I  should  not  ven- 
ture to  state,  if  there  were  not  so  many  witnesses  to 
the  facts,  in  my  neighbours  at  Botley,  as  well  as  in 
my  own  family,  will  show,  that  birds  are  not,  in  this 
respect,  inferior  to  the  canine  race.    All  country 
people  know  that  the  skylark  is  a  very  shy  bird ; 
that  its  abode  is  the  open  fields :  that  it  settles  on 
the  ground  only  ;  that  it  seeks  safety  in  the  wideness 
of  space ;  that  it  avoids  enclosures,  and  is  never  seen 
in  gardens.    A  part  of  our  ground  w^as  a  grass-plat 
of  about  forty  rods,  or  a  quarter  of  an  acre,  which, 
one  year,  was  left  to  be  mowed  for  hay.    A  pair  of 
larks,  coming  out  of  the  fields  into  the  middle  of  a 
pretty  populous  village,  chose  to  make  their  nest  in 
the  middle  of  this  little  spot,  and  at  not  more  than 
about  thirty-five  yards  from  one  of  the  doors  of  the 
house,  in  which  there  were  about  twelve  persons 
living,  and  six  of  those  children,  who  had  constant 
access  to  all  parts  of  the  ground.    There  we  saw 
the  cock  rising  up  and  singing,  then  taking  his  turn 
upon  the  eggs;  and  by-and-by,  we  observed  him 
cease  to  sing,  and  saw  them  both  constantly  engaged 
in  bringing  food  to  the  young  ones.    No  unintelligi- 
ble hint  to  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  human  race, 
who  have,  before  marriage,  taken  delight  in  music. 
But  the  time  came  for  mowing  the  grass !  I  waited 
a  good  many  days  for  the  brood  to  get  away ;  but, 
at  last,  I  determined  on  the  day ;  and  if  the  larks 
were  there  still,  to  leave  a  patch  of  grass  standing 
round  them.    In  order  not  to  keep  them  in  dread 
longer  than  necessary,  I  brought  three  able  mowers, 
who  would  cut  the  whole  in  about  an  hour )  and  ai 


vW 


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2m 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


ILettcr   I    v.] 


m^  ^' 


^l^; 


i  •', 


ifel;     I 


the  plat  was  nearly  circular,  set  them  to  mow  rownd, 
beginning  at  the  outside.  And  now  for  sagacity  in- 
deed !  The  moment  the  men  began  to  whet  their 
scythes,  the  two  old  larks  began  to  flutter  over  the 
nest,  and  to  make  a  great  clamour.  "When  the  men 
began  to  mow,  they  flew  round  and  round,  stooping 
so  low,  when  near  the  men,  as  almost  to  touch  their 
bodies,  making  a  great  chattering  at  the  same  time; 
but  before  the  men  had  got  round  with  the  second 
swarth,  they  flew  to  the  nest,  and  away  they  went, 
young  ones  and  all,  across  the  river,  at  the  foot  of 
the  ground,  and  settled  in  the  long  grass  in  my 
neighbour's  orchard. 

2&5.  The  other  instance  relates  to  a  house-mar- 
ten. It  is  well  known  that  these  birds  build  their 
nests  under  the  eaves  of  inhabited  houses,  and 
sometimes  under  those  of  door  porches ;  but  we  had 
one  that  built  its  nest  in  the  hoiise^  and  upon  the  top 
of  a  common  door-case,  the  door  of  which  opened 
into  a  room  out  of  the  main  passage  into  the  house. 
Perceiving  the  marten  had  begun  to  build  its  nest 
here,  we  kept  the  front-door  open  in  the  daytime ; 
but  were  obliged  to  fasten  it  at  night.  It  went  on, 
had  eggs,  young  ones,  and  the  young  ones  flew.  I 
used  to  open  the  door  in  the  morning  early,  and  then 
the  birds  carried  on  their  affairs  till  night.  The 
next  year  the  marten  came  again,  and  had  another 
brood  in  the  same  place.  It  found  its  old  nest ;  and 
having  repaired  it,  and  put  it  m  order,  went  on  again 
in  the  former  way ;  and  it  would,  I  dare  say,  have 
continued  to  come  to  the  end  of  its  life,  if  we  had 
remained  there  so  long,  notwithstanding  there  were 
six  healthy  children  in  the  house,  making  just  as 
much  noise  as  they  pleased. 

296.  Now,  what  sagacity  in  these  birds,  to  disco- 
ver that  those  were  places  of  safety !  And  how 
happy  it  must  have  made  us,  the  parents,  to  be  sure 
that  our  children  had  thus  deeply  imbibed  habits  the 
contrary  of  cruelty  !  For,  be  it  engraven  on  your 
heart,  young  man,  that,  whatever  appearances  may 
Bay  to  the  contrary,  cruelty  is  always  accompanied 


LLettcr  I    ^-1 


^ 


TO  A   FATHER. 


225 


w  round, 
acity  in- 
het  their 
over  the 
the  men 
stooping 
uch  their 
me  time ; 
e  second 
ley  went, 
le  foot  of 
ss  in  my 

OUSE-MAR- 

►uild  their 
luses,  and 
lut  we  had 
on  the  top 
ch  opened 
the  house, 
d  its  nest 
5  daytime ; 
t  went  on, 
es  flew.    I 
IT,  and  then 
ght.     The 
ad  another 
nest ;  and 
it  on  again 
say,  have 
if  we  had 
there  were 
ng  just  as 

s,  to  disco- 
And  how 
^  to  be  sure 
i  habits  the 
en  on  your 
•ances  may 
rcompaniM 


with  cowardke,  and  also  with  perfidy, 'xrhen  that 
is  called  for  by  the  circumstance  of  the  case ;  and 
that  habitual  acts  of  cruelty  to  other  creatures,  will, 
nine  times  out  of  ten,  produce,  when  the  power  is 
possessed,  cruelty  to  human  beings.    The  ill-usago 
of  horses,  and  particularly  asses,  is  a  grave  and  a 
just  charge  against  this  nation.    No  other  nation  on 
earth  is  guilty  of  it  to  the  same  extent.    Not  only  by 
blcnps,  but  by  privation,  are  we  cruel  towards  tnese 
useful,  docile,  and  patient  creatures ;  and  especially 
towards  the  last,  which  is  the  most  docile  and  pa- 
tient and  laborious  of  the  two,  while  the  food  that 
satisfies  it,  is  of  the  coarsest  and  least  costly  kind, 
and  in  quantity  so  small !    In  the  habitual  ill-treat- 
ment of  this  animal,  which,  in  addition  to  all  its  la- 
bours, has  the  milk  taken  from  its  young  ones  to 
administer  a  remedy  for  our  ailments,  there  is  some- 
thing that  bespeaks  ingratitude  hardly  to  be  descri- 
bed.   In  a  Register  that  I  wrote  from  Long  Island, 
I  said,  that  amongst  all  the  things  of  which  I  had 
been  bereft,  I  regretted  no  one  so  much  as  a  very  di- 
minutive mare,  one  which  my  children  had  all,  in 
succession,  learned  to  ride.    She  was  become  useless 
for  them,  and  indeed,  for  any  other  purpose ;  but  the 
recollection  of  her  was  so  entwined  with  so  many 
past  circumstances,  which,  at  that    distance,  my 
mind  conjure  ■  up,  that  I  really  was  very  uneasy, 
lest  she  should  fall  into  cruel  hands.    By  good  luck, 
she  was,  after  a  while,  turned  out  on  the  wide  world  to 
shift  for  herself;  and  when  we  got  back,  and  had  a 
place  for  her  to  stand  in,  from  her  native  forest  we 
brought  lier  to  Kensington,  and  she  is  now  at  Barn- 
Elm,  about  twenty-six  years  old,  and  I  dare  say  as  fat 
as  a  mole.  Now,  not  only  have  I  no  moral  right  (con- 
sidering my  ability  to  pay  for  keep)  to  deprive  her 
of  life ;  but  it  would  be  unjust  and  wigratejvl,  in  me 
to  withhold  from  her  sufficient  food  and  lodging  to 
make  life  as  pleasant  as  possible  while  that  life  last. 
297.  In  the  meanwhile  the  book-learning  crept  in 
of  its  own  accord,  by  imperceptible  degrees.    Child- 
ren naturally  want  to  be  like  their  parents,  and  to  do 


4f' 
•  ■♦ 

('ill    '"■■ 


I'. 


■  ;     1 


i'^'/'i 


226 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


i    '.• 


'|:i|!    IM 


tphat  they  do :  the  boys  following  their  fatlier,  and 
the  girls  their  mother  j  and  as  I  was  always  writing 
or  reading,  mine  naturally  desired  to  do  something 
in  the  same  way.  But,  at  the  same  time,  they  heard 
no  talk  from  j^ote  or  drinkers  ;  saw  me  with  no  idle, 
gabbling,  empty  companions  ;  saw  no  vain  and  af- 
fected coxcombs,  and  no  tawdry  and  extravagant 
women:  saw  no  nasty  gormandizing;  and  heard 
no  gabble  about  play-houses  and  romances  and  the 
other  nonsense  that  fit  boys  to  be  lobby-loungers, 
and  girls  to  be  the  ruin  of  industrious  and  frugal 
young  men, 

298.  We  wanted  no  stimulants  of  this  sort  to 
keep  up  our  spirits :  our  various  pleasing  pursuits 
were  quite  sufficient  for  that ;  and  the  book-learning 
came  amongst  the  rest  of  the  pleasures,  to  which  it 
was,  in  some  sort,  necessary.  I  remember  that,  one 
year,  I  raised  a  prodigious  crop  of  fine  melons,  un- 
der hand-glasses ;  and  I  learned  how  to  do  it  from  a 
gardening  book  ;  or,  at  least,  that  book  was  necessa- 
ry to  remind  me  of  the  details.  Having  passed  part 
of  an  evening  in  talking  to  the  boys  about  getting 
this  crop,  "  Come,"  said  I, "  now,  let  us  r'ead  the 
book.^^  Then  the  book  came  forth,  and  to  work  we 
■went,  following  very  strictly  the  precepts  of  the 
book.  I  read  the  thing  but  once,  but  the  eldest  boy 
read  it,  perhaps,  twenty  times  over ;  and  explained 
all  about  the  matter  to  the  others.  Why  here  was  a 
motive!  Then  he  had  to  tell  the  garden-labourer 
what  to  do  to  the  melons.  Now,  I  will  engage,  that 
more  was  really  learned  by  this  single  lesson,  than 
would  have  been  learned  by  spending,  at  this  son's 
age,  a  year  at  school  j  and  he  happy  and  delighted  all 
the  while.  When  any  dispute  arose  amongst  them 
about  hunting  or  shooting,  or  any  other  of  their  pur- 
suits, they,  by  degrees,  found  out  the  way  of  settling 
it  by  reference  to  some  book  ;  and  when  any  difllcul- 
ty  occurred,  as  to  the  meaning,  they  referred  to  me, 
who,  if  at  home,  always  instantly  attended  to  them, 
in  these  matters. 
s^  299.  They  began  writing  by  taking  words  out  oi 


v.] 


TO   A   FATHER. 


227 


■  fatlier,  and 
i^ays  writing 
[o  something 
e,  they  heard 
with  no  idle, 
vain  and  af- 
.  extravagant 
r;  and  heard 
inces  and  the 
bby-loungers, 
IS  and  frugal 

•  this  sort  to 
ising  pursuits 
book-learning 
es,  to  which  il 
mber  that,  one 
ne  melons,  un- 
to do  it  from  a 
k  was  necessa- 
ing  passed  part 
about  getting 
Bt  us  read  the 
nd  to  work  we 
recepts  of  the 
,  the  eldest  boy 
and  explained 
V^hy  here  was  a 
rarden-labourer 
ill  engage,  that 
gle  lesson,  than 
ig,  at  this  son's 
nd  ddighted  all 
!  amongst  them 
ler  of  their  pur- 
way  of  settling 
len  any  difficul- 
referred  to  me, 
ttended  to  them^ 

ig  words  out  01 


printedbooks ;  finding  out  which  letter  was  which,  by 
asking  me,  or  asking  those  who  knew  the  letters  one 
from  another ;  and  by  imitating  bits  of  my  writing, 
it  is  surprising  how  soon  they  began  to  write  a  hand 
like  mine,  very  small,  very  faint-stroked,  and  nearly 
plain  as  print.  The  first  use  that  any  one  of  them 
made  of  the  pen,  was  to  torite  to  me,  though  in  the 
same  house  with  them.  They  began  doing  this  in 
mere  scratches,  before  they  knew  how  to  make  any 
one  letter ;  and  as  I  was  always  folding  up  letters 
and  directing  them,  so  were  they ;  and  they  were 
sure  to  receive  a  prompt  answer,  with  most  encoura- 
ginff  compliments.  All  the  meddlings  and  teazings 
of  friends,  and,  what  was  more  serious,  the  press- 
ing prayers  of  their  anxious  mother,  about  sending 
them  to  school,  I  withstood  without  the  slightest 
eflfect  on  my  resolution.  As  to  friends,  preferring 
my  own  judgment  to  theirs,  I  did  not  care  much  ; 
but  an  expression  of  anxiety,  implying  a  doubt  of 
the  soundness  of  my  own  judgment,  coming,  per- 
haps, twenty  times  a  day  from  her  whose  care  they 
were  as  well  as  mine,  was  not  a  matter  to  smile  at, 
and  very  great  trouble  did  it  give  me.  My  answer 
at  last  was,  as  to  the  boys,  I  want  them  to  be  like 
me  ;  and  as  to  the  girls,  In  whose  hands  can  they  be 
so  safe  as  in  yours  7  Therefore  my  resolution  is  ta- 
ken :  go  to  school  they  shall  not. 

300.  Nothing  is  much  more  annoying  than  the 
intermeddling'  of  friends,  in  a  case  like  this.  The 
wife  appeals  to  them,  and  ^^good  breeding,^"*  that  is 
to  say,  nonsense,  is  sure  to  put  them  on  her  side. 
Then,  they,  particularly  the  women,  when  descri- 
bing the  surprising^  progress  made  by  their  own 
sons  at  school,  useoj  if  one  of  mine  were  present,  to 
turn  to  him,  and  ask,  to  what  school  he  went,  and 
what  he  was  learning  7  I  leave  any  one  to  judge 
of  his  opinion  of  her ;  and  whether  he  would  like 
her  the  better  for  that !  "  Bless  me,  so  tall,  and  not 
learned  any  thing  yet .'"  "  Oh  yes,  he  has,"  I  used 
to  say,  "  he  has  learned  to  ride,  and  hunt,  and  shoot, 
"  and  fish,  and  look  after  cattle  and  sheep,  and  to 


it', 


r' 


^1 


2S8 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


r>'.)i 


ll  ■'! 


I        ' 


:•!-:'; 


!     ,|if. 


Sli.    " 


I  n.f , 


"  work  in  the  garden,  and  to  feed  his  dogs,  and  to  go 
"  from  village  to  village  in  the  dark."  This  was  the 
way  I  used  to  manage  with  troublesome  customers  of 
this  sort.  And  how  glad  thechildren  used  to  be,  when 
they  got  clear  of  such  criticising  people  !  And  how 
grateful  they  felt  to  mc  for  the  protection  which 
they  saw  that  I  gave  them  against  that  state  of  re- 
straint, of  which  other  people's  boys  complained ! 
Go  whither  they  might,  they  found  no  place  so 
pleasant  as  home,  and  no  soul  that  came  near  them 
affording  them  so  many  means  of  gratification  as 
they  received  from  me. 

301.  In  this  happy  state  we  lived,  until  the  year 
1810,  when  the  government  laid  its  merciless  fangs 
upon  me,  dragged  me  from  these  delights,  and 
crammed  me  into  a  jail  amongst  feloiis  ;  of  which  I 
shall  have  to  speak  more  fully,  when,  in  the  last 
Number,  I  come  to  speak  of  the  duties  of  the  Citi- 
zen. This  added  to  the  difficulties  of  my  task  of 
teaching  ;  for  now  I  was  snatched  away  from  the 
only  scene  in  which  it  could,  as  I  thought,  properly 
be  executed.  But  even  these  difficulties  were  got 
over.  The  blow  was,  to  be  sure,  a  terrible  one; 
and,  oh  God  !  how  was  it  felt  by  these  poor  child- 
ren !  It  was  in  the  month  of  July  when  the  horri- 
ble sentence  was  passed  upon  me.  My  wife,  having 
left  her  children  in  the  care  of  her  good  and  affec- 
tionate sister,  was  in  London,  waiting  to  know  the 
doom  of  her  husband.  When  the  news  arrived  at 
Botley,  the  three  boys,  one  eleven,  another  nine,  and 
the  other  seven,  years  old,  were  hoeing  cabbages  in 
that  garden  which  had  been  the  source  of  so  much 
delight.  When  the  account  of  the  savage  sentence 
was  brought  to  them,  the  youngest  could  not,  for 
some  time,  be  made  to  understand  what  a  jail  was ; 
and,  when  he  did,  he,  all  in  a  tremor,  exclaimed, 
"  Now  I'm  sure,  William,  that  Papa  is  not  in  a  place 
like  that .'"  The  other,  in  order  to  disguise-  his  tears 
and  smother  his  sobs,  fell  to  work  with  the  hoe,  and 
chopped  about  like  a  blind  person.  This  account, 
v/hen  it  reached  me,  affected  me  more,  filled  mi 


V.J 


TO   A    FATHER. 


220 


)g9,  and  to  go 
This  was  the 
;  customers  of 
ed  to  be,  when 
e !  And  how 
tection  which 
at  state  of  re- 
;  complained', 
i  no  place  so 
me  near  them 
rratiiication  as 

initil  lae  year 
lerciless  fangs 
delights,  and 
IS  ;  of  which  I 
en,  in  the  last 

eS  of  THE  ClTI- 

of  my  task  of 
iway  from  the 
pught,  properly 
ulties  were  got 
a  terrible  one; 
ese  poor  child- 
vhen  the  horri- 
fy wife,  having 
good  and  affec- 
ig  to  know  the 
news  arrived  at 
lother  nine,  and 
ing  cabbages  in 
irce  of  so  much 
-javage  sentence 
,  could  not,  for 
rhat  a  jail  was ; 
nor,  exclaimed, 
is  not  in  a  place 
[sguis&  his  tears 
ith  the  hoe,  and 
This  account, 
more,  filled  me 


with  deeper  resentment,  than  any  other  circum- 
stance. And,  oh  !  how  I  despise  the  wretches  who 
talk  of  my  vindictiveness  ;  of  my  exultation  at  the 
confusion  of  those  who  inflicted  those  sufferings ! 
How  I  despise  the  base  creatures,  the  crawling  slaves, 
the  callous  and  cowardly  hypocrites,  who  affect  to 
be  "  shocked"  (tender  souls  I)  at  my  expressions  of 
joy,  and  at  the  death  of  Gibbs,  Ellenborough,  Perci- 
val,  Liverpool,  Canning,  and  the  rest  of  the  tribe 
that  I  have  already  seen  out,  and  at  the  fatal  work- 
ings of  that  system.,  for  endeavouring  to  check 
which  I  was  thus  punished !  How  I  despise  these 
wretches,  and  how  I,  above  all  things,  enjoy  their 
ruin,  and  anticipate  their  utter  beggary  1  What ! 
I  am  to  forgive,  am  I,  injuries  like  this ;  and  that, 
too,  without  any  atonement  ?  Oh,  no !  I  have  not 
so  read  the  Holy  Scriptures ;  I  have  not,  from  them, 
learned  that  I  am  not  to  rejoice  at  the  fall  of  unjust 
foes ;  and  it  makes  a  part  of  my  happiness  to  be 
able  to  tell  millions  of  men  that  I  do  thus  rejoice,  and 
that  I  have  the  means  of  calling  on  so  many  just 
and  merciful  men  to  rejoice  along  with  me. 

303.  Now,  then,  the  book-learning  wasforced  upon 
I  us.  I  had  a^ar/Ti  in  hand.  It  was  necessary  that  I 
should  be  constantly  informed  of  what  was  doing. 
I  gave  ail  tlie  orders,  whether  as  to  purchases,  sales, 
1  ploughing,  sowing,  breeding;  in  short  with  regard 
to  every  thing,  and  the  things  were  endless  in  num- 
ber and  variety,  and  always  full  of  interest.  My 
eldest  son  and  daughter  could  now  write  well  and 
fast.  One  or  the  other  of  these  was  always  at  Bot- 
ley;  and  I  had  with  me  (having  hired  the  best  part 
of  the  keeper's  house)  one  or  two,  besides  either  this 
Ibrother  or  sister ;  the  mother  coming  up  to  town 
[about  once  in  two  or  three  months,  leaving  the  house 
land  children  in  the  care  of  her  sister.  We  had  a 
|HAMPER,  with  a  lock  and  two  keys,  which  came  up 
Slice  a  week,or  oftener,bringing  me  fruit  and  all  sorts 
)f  country  fare,  for  the  carriage  of  which,  cost  free, 
"  was  indebted  to  as  good  a  man  as  ever  God  created, 
le  late  Mr.  George  Rogers,  of  Southampton,  who, 

20 


I.'  .i 


■    "ii 


P^'l-'r'   I'- 
ll: m.  I ::^  |; ; 


;■  Ji 


>4 


f      » 


«:    .,,     ^^, 


:!■     »:!     ■' 


, 


h'i 


230 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


LLetter 


in  the  prime  of  life,  died  deeply  lamented  by  thou- 
sands, but  by  none  more  deeply  than  by  me  and  my 
family,  who  have  to  thank  him,  and  the  whole  of  his 
excellent  family,  for  benefits  and  marks  of  kindness 
without  number. 

303.  This  HAMPER,  which  was  always,  at  both  ends 
of  the  line,  looked  for  with  the  most  lively  feelings, 
became  our  5c/ioo/.    It  brought  me  a  journal  of /a- 
bourSj  proceedings,  and  occurrences,  written  on  pa- 
per of  shape  and  size  uniform,  and  so  contrived,  as 
to  margins,  as  to  admit  of  binding.    The  journal 
used,  when  my  son  was  the  writer,  to  be  interspersed 
with  drawings  of  our  dogs,  colts,  or  any  thing  that 
he  wanted  me  to  have  a  correct  idea  of.    The  hamper 
brought  me  plants,  bulbs,  and  the  like,  that  I  might 
see  the  size  of  them ;  and  always  every  one  sent  his  or  j 
her  most  beautiful  flowers ;  the  earliest  violets,  and; 
primroses,  and  cowslips,  and  blue-bells;  the  earliest 
twigs  of  trees ;  and,  in  short,  every  thing  that  they 
thought  calculated  to  delight  me.    The  moment  the  I 
hamper  arrived,  I,  casting  aside  every  thing  else,  set 
to  work  to  answer  exsery  question,  to  give  new  direc- 
tions, and  to  add  any  thing  likely  to  give  pleasure  at 
Botley.  Every  hamper  brought  one  "  lelter,^^  as  they 
called  it,  if  not  more,  from  every  child ;  and  to  evem 
letter  I  wrote  an  atiswer,  sealed  up  and  sent  to  the! 
party,  being  sure  that  that  was  the  way  to  produce 
other  and  better  letters  j  for,  though  they  could  not 
read  what  I  wrote,  and  though  their  own  consisted 
at  first  of  mere  scratches,  and  afterwards,  for  a  whilej 
of  a  few  words  written  down  for  them  tu  imitate,  ll 
always  thanked  them  for  their  ^' pretty  letter'^^  j  and! 
never  expressed  any  wish  to  see  them  write-hettei';\ 
but  took  care  to  write  in  a  very  neat  and  plain  liandj 
myself,  and  to  do  up  my  letter  in  a  very  neat  raanner.l 

304.  Thus,  while  the  ferocious  tigers  thought  ll 
M^as  doomed  to  incessant  mortification,  and  to  ragul 
that  must  extinguish  my  mental  powers,  I  found  inl 
my  children,  and  in  their  spotless  and  courageous! 
and  most  affectionate  mother,  delights  to  which  t 
callous  hearts  of  those  tigers  were  strangers.  "  Ilia-I 


ILetter  I    V.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


231 


3nted  by  thou- 
by  me  and  ray 
le  whole  of  his 
ts  of  kindness 

ys,  at  both  ends 
lively  feelings, 
J,  journal  of  la- 
written  on  pa- 
jo  contrived,  as 
r.    The  journal 
Ibe  interspersed 
:  any  thing  that 
)f.    The  hamper 
tke,  that  I  might 
fy  one  sent  his  or 
liest  violets,  and 
lells;  the  earliest 
j^  thing  that  they 
The  moment  tlie 
ery  thing  else,  set 
o  give  new  direc- 
)  give  pleasure  at 
5"/e««2r,"asthey 
hild ;  and  to  a-ery 
and  sent  to  the 
.  way  to  produce 
h  they  could  not 
lir  own  consisted 
fvards,  for  a  while,! 
hemtu  imitate,! 
rretiy  letter-'' i  and 
lem  write-heUei';\ 
lat  and  plain  hand] 
[very  neat  manner. 
tigers  thought  I 
aion,  and  to  rag« 
jowers,  1  found  m 
fs  and  courageod 
ghts  to  which  tro| 
"'strangers.  "Ih^- 


yen  first  taught  letters  for  some  wretch's  aid."  How 
often  did  this  line  of  Pope  occur  to  me  when  I  open- 
ed the  little  spitddliii^  "  letters"  from  Botley !  This 
correspondence  occupied  a  good  part  of  my  time :  I 
had  all  the  children  with  me,  turn  and  turn  about; 
and,  in  order  to  give  the  boys  exercise,  and  to  give 
the  two  eldest  an  opportunity  of  beginning  to  learn 
French,  I  used,  for  a  part  of  the  two  years,  to  send 
them  a  few  hours  in  the  day  to  an  Abbe,  who  lived 
in  Castle-street,  Holborn.  All  this  was  a  great  relax- 
ation to  my  mind ;  and,  when  I  had  to  return  to  my 
literary  labours,  I  returned /^es/i  and  cheerful,  full  ol 
vigour,  and  /w//  of  hope,  of  fi.ially  seeing  my  unjust 
and  merciless  foes  at  my  feet,  and  that,  too,  without 
caring  a  straw  on  whom  their  fall  might  bring  ca- 
lamity, so  that  my  own  family  were  safe ;  because, 
say  what  any  one  might,  the  community,  taken  as  a 
whole,  had  suffered  this  thing'  to  be  done  unto  us, 

305.  The  paying  of  the  work-people,  the  keeping 
of  the  accounts,  the  referring  to  books,  the  writing 
and  reading  of  letters;  this  everlasting  mixture  of 
amusements  with  book-learning,  made  me,  almost 
to  my  own  surprise,  find,  at  the  end  of  the  two  years, 
that  I  had  a  parcel  of  scholars  growing  up  about  me; 
and,  long  before  the  end  of  the  time,  I  had  dictated 
many  Registers  to  my  two  eldest  children.  Then, 
there  was  copying  out  of  books,  which  taught  spet- 
ling  correctly.  The  calculations  about  the  farn.''j 
affairs  forced  arithmetic  upon  us :  the  use,  the  neces- 
sity, of  the  thing,  led  to  the  study.  By-and-by,  we 
had  to  look  into  the  laws  to  know  what  to  do  about 
the  highways,  about  the  game,  about  the  poor,  and 
all  rural  and  parochial  affairs.  I  was,  indeed,  by  the 
fangs  of  the  government,  defeated  in  my  fondly- 
cherished  project  of  making  my  sons  farmers  on 
their  own  land,  and  keeping  them  from  all  tempta- 
tion to  seek  vicious  and  enervating  enjoyments;  but 
those  fangs,  merciless  as  they  had  been,  had  not 
Ibeen  able  to  prevent  me  from  laying  in  for  their  lives 
a  store  of  useful  information,  habits  of  industry 
care,  sobriety,  and  a  taste  for  innocent,  healthful,  and 


Jill' 

I 


in 


.1 


It 


K 


.f'.'ll 

V 


WJ 


'%: 


232 


cobbett's  advicb 


Pi;^!'''!        !''i:ii? 


h.i  I 


fl.",'      ;:!: 


If-r  ;■-' 


fl  ■!  I 


I'; 


I   '     ! 


■^  'k 


[Letter 


^il  '¥i 


manly  pleasures :  the  fangs  had  made  me  and  them 
pennylesss ;  but,  they  had  not  been  able  to  take  from 
us  our  health  or  our  mental  possessions ;  and  these 
were  ready  for  application  as  circumstances  might 
ordain. 

306.  After  the  age  that  I  have  now  been  speaking 
of,  fourteen^  I  suppose  every  one  became  a  reader  and 
writer  according  to  fancy.  As  to  books,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Poets,  I  never  bought,  in  my  whole 
life,  any  one  that  I  did  not  want  for  some  purpose  of 
ntility,  and  of  jyt*actical  utility  too.  I  have  two  or 
three  times  had  the  whole  collection  snatched  away 
from  me ;  and  have  begun  again  to  get  them  together 
as  they  were  wanted.  Go  and  kick  an  Ant's  nest 
about,  and  you  will  see  the  little  laborious,  coura- 
geous creatures  instantly  set  to  work  to  get  it  toge- 
ther again  j  and  if  you  do  this  ten  times  over,  ten 
times  over  they  will  do  the  same.  Here  is  the  sort 
of  stuff  that  men  must  be  made  of  to  oppose,  with 
success,  those  who,  by  whatever  means,  get  posses- 
sion of  great  and  mischievous  power. 

307.  Now,  I  am  aware,  that  that  which  I  did,  can- 
not be  done  by  every  one  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  fathers,  each  of  whom  loves  his  children  with  all 
his  soul :  I  am  aware  that  the  attorney,  the  surgeon, 
the  physician,  the  trader,  and  even  the  farmer,  can- 
not, generally  speaking,  do  what  I  did,  and  that  they  | 
must,  in  most  cases,  send  their  sons  to  school,  if  it 
be  necessary  for  them  to  have  book-learning-.    But 
while  I  say  this,  I  know,  that  there  are  many  things^  i 
which  I  did,  which  many  fathers  might  do,  and 
which,  nevertheless,  they  do  not  do.    It  is  in  the  I 
power  of  every  father  to  live  at  home  with  his  fawi- 
ty,  when  not  compelled  by  business,  or  by  public  duty, 
to  be  absent :  it  is  in  his  power  to  set  an  example  of  I 
industry  and  sobriety  and  frugality,  and  to  prevent 
a  taste  for  gaming,  dissipation,  extravagance,  from  | 
getting  root  in  the  minds  of  his  children :  it  is  in  his 
power  to  continue  to  make  his  children  hearers,^ 
when  he  is  reproving  servants  for  idleness,  or  com- 
mending them  for  industry  and  care:  it  is  in  his  I 


T.| 


TO  A  FATHER. 


233 


J  me  and  them 
le  to  take  from 
ms ;  and  these 
istances  might 

r  been  speaking 
we  a  reader  and 
1^  with  the  ex- 
t,  in  my  whole 
jome  purpose  of 
I  have  two  or 
.  snatched  away 
et  them  together 
:  an  Ant's  nest 
aborious,  coura- 
k  to  get  it  toge- 
i  times  over,  ten 
Here  is  the  sort 
to  oppose,  with 
leans,  get  posses- 

er. 

which  Jdta,  can- 
eds  of  thousands 
children  with  all 
ley,  the  surgeon, 
the  farmer,  can- 
aid,  and  that  they 
ns  to  school,  if  it 
)k-learnwg:    But 
are  many  things, 
s  might  do,  and 
do.    It  is  in  the 
me  with  Ms  f ami- 
or  by  public  duty, 
set  an  example  of 
y,  and  to  prevent 
xtravagance,  from 
ildren:  it  is  in  his 
children  liearm, 
idleness,  or  com- 
care :  it  is  in  his 


power  to  keep  all  dissolute  and  idly-talking  compa- 
nions from  his  house:  it  is  in  his  power  to  teach 
them,  by  his  uniform  example,  justice  and  mercy 
towards  the  inferior  animals :  it  is  in  his  power  to  do 
many  other  things,  and  something  in  the  way  of 
book-learning  too,  however  busy  his  life  may  be.    It 
is  completely  within  his  power  to  teach  them  early- 
rising  and  early  going  to  bed ;  and,  if  many  a  man, 
who  says  that  he  has  not  time  to  teach  his  children, 
were  to  sit  down,  in  sinceirity,  with  a  pen  and  a  bit  of 
paper,  and  put  down  all  the  minutes,  which  he,  in 
every  twenty-four  hours,  wastes  over  the  bottle,  or 
over  cheese  and  oranges  and  raisins  and  biscuits^ 
after  he  has  dined ;  how  many  he  lounges  away, 
either  at  the  coffee-house  or  at  home,  over  the  useless 
part  of  newspapers ;  how  many  he  spends  in  wait- 
ing for  the  coming  and  the  managing  of  the  tea-ta- 
ble; how  many  he  passes  by  candle-light, 'leaned 
of  his  eanstence,  when  he  might  be  in  bed ;  how  many 
he  passes  in  the  morning  in  bed,  while  the  sun  and 
dew  shine  and  sparkle  for  him  in  vain :  if  he  were 
to  put  all  these  together,  and  were  to  add  those  which 
he  passes  in  the  reading-  of  books  for  his  mere  per- 
gonal amusement,  and  without  the  smallest  chance  of 
acquiring  from  them  any  wstf/i/Z  practical  knowledge: 
if  he  were  to  sum  up  the  whole  of  these,  and  add  to 
them  the  time  worse  than  wasted  in  the  contemptible 
work  of  dressing  off  his  person,  he  would  be  frighten- 
ed at  the  result ;  would  send  for  his  boys  from  school; 
and  if  greater  book-learning  than  he  possessed  were 
necessary,  he  would  choose  for  the  purpose  some 
man  of  ability,  and  see  the  teaching  carried  on  under 
his  ovi^n  roof,  with  safety  as  to  morals,  and  with  the 
best  chance  as  to  health. 

308.  If  after  all,  however,  a  school  must  be  resort- 
led  to,  let  it,  if  in  your  power,  be  as  little  populous  as 
possible.  As  "evil  communications  corrupt  good 
manners,"  so  the  more  numerous  the  assemblage, 
and  the  more  extensive  the  communication,  the 
greater  the  chance  of  corruption.  Jails,  barrackSy 
\}actories>  do  not  corrupt  by  their  walls,  but  by  thoir 

30* 


■I 

.1 


234 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


frm 


\   u 


I..' 


:  i ' 


pi't 


condensed  numbers.  Populous  cities  corrupt  from 
the  same  cause ;  and  it  is,  because  il  must  6c,  the 
same  with  regard  to  schools,  out  of  which  children 
come  not  what  they  were  when  they  went  in.  The 
master  is,  in  some  sort,  their  enemy ;  he  is  their 
overlooker  j  he  is  a  spy  upon  them  j  his  authority 
is  maintained  by  his  absolute  power  of  punishment ; 
the  'parent  commits  them  to  that  power  j  to  be  taught 
is  to  be  held  in  restraint ;  and,  as  the  sparks  fly  up- 
wards, the  teaching  and  the  restraint  will  not  be  di> 
vided  in  the  estimation  of  the  boy.  Besides  all  this, 
there  is  the  great  disadvantage  of  tardiness  in  arri- 
ving at  years  of  discretion.  If  boys  live  only  with 
boys,  their  ideas  will  continue  to  be  boyish  ;  if  they 
see  and  hear  and  converse  with  nobody  but  boys, 
how  are  they  to  have  the  thoughts  and  the  character 
of  men?  It  is,  at  last,  only  by  hearing  men  talk 
and  seeing  men  act,  that  they  learn  to  talk  and  act 
like  men  ;  and,  therefore,  to  confine  them  to  the  so- 
ciety of  boys,  is  to  retai'd  their  arrival  at  the  years 
of  discretion  ;  and  in  case  of  adverse  circumstances 
in  the  pecuniary  way,  where,  in  all  the  creation,  is 
there  so  helpless  a  mortal  as  a  boy  who  has  always 
been  at  school !  But,  if,  as  I  said  before,  a  school 
there  mvst  be,  let  the  congregation  be  as  small  as 
possible ;  and,  do  not  expect  too  much  from  the 
master;  for,  if  it  be  irksome  to  you  to  teach  your 
own  sons,  what  must  that  teaching  be  to  him?  If  he 
have  great  numbers,  he  must  delegate  his  authority; 
and,  like  all  other  delegated  authority,  it  will  either  | 
be  abused  or  neglected. 

309.  With  regard  to  girls,  one  would  think  that  | 
mothers,  would  want  no  argument  to  make  them 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  committing  the  care  of  I 
their  daughters  to  other  hands  than  their  own.  If 
fortune  have  so  favoured  them  as  to  make  them  ra- 
tionally desirous  that  their  daughters  should  have 
more  of  what  are  called  accomplishments  than  they 
themselves  have,  it  has  also  favoured  them  with  the 
means  of  having  teachers  under  their  own  eye.  If 
it  have  not  favoured  them  so  highly  as  this  (and  it 


'. !  ■.'  I 


ii'l' 


[Letter 

s  corrupt  from 
U  must  be,  the 
which  children 
went  in.  The 
ly ;  he  is  their 
;  his  authority 
of  punishment; 
r  ;  to  be  taught 
e  sparks  fly  up- 
t  will  not  be  di- 
Besides  all  this, 
trdiness  in  arri- 
3  live  only  with 
boyish;  if  they 
obody  but  boys, 
nd  the  character 
earing  men  talk 
1  to  talk  and  act 
B  them  to  the  so- 
rival  at  the  years 
ise  circumstances 
1  the  creation,  is 
who  has  always 
before,  a  school 
nbe  as  small  as 
much  from  the 
►u  to  teach  your 
be  to  him?  If  he 
ate  his  authority! 
ity,  it  will  either 

would  think  that 
It  to  make  them 
itting  the  care  of 
an  their  own.  If 
to  make  them  ra- 
Iters  should  have 
hments  «/ion  they 
ed  them  with  the 
heir  own  eye.  If 
ily  as  this  (and  It 


v.] 


TO  A  FATHER. 


2^ 


seldom  has  in  the  middle  rank  of  life),  what  duty  so 
sacred  as  that  imposed  on  a  mother  to  be  the  teach- 
er of  her  daughters !  And  is  she,  from  love  of  ease 
or  of  pleasure  or  of  any  thing  else,  to  neglect  this 
duty ;  is  she  to  commit  her  daughters  to  the  care  of 
persons,  with  wh^  s  manners  and  morals  it  is  im- 
possible for  her  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted  ;  is  she 
to  send  them  into  the  promiscuous  society  of  girls, 
who  belong  to  nobody  knows  whom,  and  come  from 
nobody  knows  whither,  and  some  of  whom,  for  aught 
she  can  know  to  the  contrary,  may  have  been  cor- 
rupted before,  and  sent  thither  to  be  hidden  from 
their  former  circle ;  is  she  to  send  her  daughters  to 
be  shut  up  within  walls,  the  bare  sight  of  which 
awaken  the  idea  of  intrigue  and  invite  to  seduction 
and  surrender ;  is  she  to  leave  the  health  of  her 
daughters  to  chance,  to  shut  them  up  with  a  motley 
bevy  of  strangers,  some  of  whom,  as  is  frequently 
the  case,  are  proclaimed  tmstanls.  by  the  undeniable 
testimony  given  by  the  colour  of  their  skin  j  is  she 
to  do  all  this,  and  still  put  forward  pretensions  to  the 
authority  and  the  affection  due  to  a  mother!  And, 
are  you  to  permit  all  this,  and  still  call  yourself  a 
father  ! 

310.  Well,  then,  having  resolved  to  teach  your 
own'children,  or,  to  have  them  taught,  at  home,  let 
us  now  see  how  they  ought  to  proceed  as  to  books 
for  learning.  It  is  evident,  speaking  of  boys,  that, 
at  last,  they  must  study  the  art,  or  science,  that  you 
intend  them  to  pursue ;  if  they  be  to  be  surgeons, 
they  must  read  books  on  surgery ;  and  the  like  ii\ 
other  cases.  But,  there  are  certain  elementary  stu- 
dies ;  certain  books  to  be  used  by  all  persons,  who 
are  destined  to  acquire  any  book-learning  at  all.  Then 
there  are  departments,  or  branches  of  knowledge, 
that  every  man  in  the  middle  rank  of  life,  ought,  if 
he  can,  to  acquire,  they  being,  in  some  sort,  necessa- 
ry to  his  reputation  as  a  wdl-informed  man,  a  cha- 
racter to  which  the  farmer  and  the  shopkeeper  ought 
to  aspire  as  well  as  the  lawyer  and  the  surgeon.  Let 
ms  now,  then,  offer  my  advice  as  to  the  course  of 


*i« 


fii 


A 


J,.'    I: 


I  ■■< 


\> 


i  [' 


'"'1'!    i1M 


236 


cobbett'b  advice 


[Letter 


!.|li.;fl 


reading,  and  the  wanner  of  reading,  for  a  boy,  ar- 
rived at  his  fourtLenth  year,  that  being,  in  my  opi- 
nion, early  enough  for  him  to  begin. 

311.  And,  first  of  all,  whether  as  to  boys  or  girls, 
I  deprecate  Tomances  of  every  descriplion.  It  is 
impossible  that  they  can  do  any  good^  and  they  may 
do  a  great  deal  of  harm.  They  excite  passions  that 
ought  to  lie  dormant ;  they  give  the  mind  a  taste  for 
highly-seosoned  matter ;  they  make  matters  of  real 
life  insipid ;  every  girl,  addicted  to  them,  sighs  to  be 
a  SopmA  Western,  and  every  boy,  a  Tom  Jones. 
"What  girl  is  not  in  love  with  the  wild  youth,  and 
what  boy  does  not  find  a  justification  for  his  wild- 
ness  ?  What  can  be  more  pernicious  than  the  teach- 
ings of  this  celebrated  romance?  Here  are  two 
young  men  put  before  us,  both  sons  of  the  same 
mother ;  the  one  a  bastard  (and  by  a  parson  too), 
the  oi\\GT  2i  legitimate  child;  the  former  wild,  diso- 
bedient, and  squandering ;  the  latter  steady,  sober, 
obedient,  and  frugal :  the  former  every  thing  that  is 
frank  and  generous  in  his  nature,  the  latter  a  greedy 
hypocrite  ;  the  former  rewarded  with  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  virtuous  of  women  and  a  double  estate,  the 
latter  punished  by  being  made  an  outcast.  How  is 
it  possible  for  young  people  to  read  such  a  book,  and 
to  look  upon  orderliness,  sobriety,  obedience,  and 
frugality,  as  virtues?  And  this  is  the  tenor  of  almost 
every  romance,  and  of  almost  every  play,  in  our 
language.  In  the  "  School  for  Scandal,"  for  instance, 
we  see  two  brothers;  the  one  a  prudent  and  frugal 
man,  and,  to  all  appearance,  a  moral  man,  the  other 
a  hair-brained  squanderer,  laughing  at  the  morality 
of  his  brother ;  the  former  turns  out  to  be  a  base 
hypocrite  and  seducer,  and  is  brought  to  shame  and 
disgrace ;  while  the  latter  is  found  to  be  full  of  gene- 
rous sentiment,  and  Heaven  itself  seems  to  interfere 
to  give  him  fortune  and  fame.  In  short,  the  ^^irect 
tendency  of  the  far  greater  part  of  these  books,  is, 
to  cause  young  people  to  despise  all  those  virtues, 
without  the  practice  of  which  they  must  be  a  curse 
to  their  parents,  a  burden  to  the  community,  and 


;h!: 


m 


[Letter 

)r  aboy,  ar- 
,  in  my  opi- 

3oys  or  girls, 
iplion.    It  is 
md  they  may 
passions  tliat 
ind  a  taste  for 
latters  of  real 
m,  sighs  to  be 
L  Tom  J0NE8. 
Id  youth,  and 
1  for  his  wild- 
iian  the  teach- 
Here  are  two 
IS  of  the  same 
1  parson  too), 
ner  wild,  disc- 
steady,  sober, 
ry  thing  that  is 
latter  a  greedy 
the  most  beau- 
uble  estate,  the 
least.    How  is 
ich  a  book,  and 
obedience,  and 
tenor  of  almost 
y  play,  in  our 
1,"  for  instance, 
lent  and  frugal 
man,  the  other 
at  the  morality 
at  to  be  a  base 
it  to  shame  and 
be  full  of  gene- 
ims  to  interfere 
iiort,  the  "direct 
thege  books,  is, 
11  those  virtues, 
must  be  a  curse 
ommunity,  and 


V.J 


TO  A  FATHER. 


iW 


must,  except  by  mere  accident,  lead  wretched  lives. 
I  do  not  recollect  one  romance  nor  one  play,  in  our 
language,  which  has  not  this  tendency.  How  is  it 
possible  for  young  princes  to  read  the  historical  plays 
of  the  punning  and  smutty  Shakspeare,and  not  think, 
that  to  be  drunkards,  blackguards,  the  companions 
of  debauchees  and  robbers,  is  the  suitable  beginning 
of  a  glorious  reign  ? 

312.  There  is,  too,  another  most  abominable  prin- 
ciple that  runs  through  them  all,  namely,  that  there 
is  in  high  birthy  something  of  s-ufperiar  nature^  in- 
stinctive courage,  honour,  and  talent.  Who  can  look 
at  the  two  royal  youths  in  Cymbeline,  or  at  the  noble 
youth  in  Douglas,  without  detesting  the  base  para- 
sites who  wrote  those  plays?     Here  are  youths, 
brought  up  by  shepJiercls,  never  told  of  their  origin, 
believing  themselves  the  sons  of  these  humble  pa- 
rents, but  discovering,  when  grown  up,  the  highest 
notions  of  valour  and  honour,  and  thirsting  for  mi- 
litary renown,  even  while  tending  their  reputed  fa- 
thers' flocks  and  herds !   And  why  this  species  of 
falsehood  ?    To  cheat  the  mass  of  the  people ;  to 
keep  them  in  abject  subjection ;  to  make  them  qui- 
etly submit  to  despotic  sway.    And  the  infamous 
authors  are  guilty  of  the  cheat,  because  they  are,  in 
one  shape  or  another,  paid  by  oppressors  out  of  means 
squeezed  from  the  people.    A  true  picture  would 
give  us  just  the  reverse ;  would  show  us  that  ^^high 
hirtN"^  is  the  enemy  of  virtue,  of  valour,  and  of  ta- 
lent ;  would  show  us,  that  with  all  their  incalculable 
advantages,  royal  and  noble  families  have,  only  by 
mere  accident,  produced  a  great  man ;  that,  in  gene- 
ral, they  have  been  amongst  the  most  effeminate, 
unprincipled,  cowardly,  stupid,  and,  at  the  very  least, 
amongst  the  most  useless  persons,  considered  as  in- 
dividuals, and  not  in  connexion  with  the  prerogatives 
and  powers  bestowed  on  them  solely  by  the  law. 

313.  It  is  impossible  for  me,  by  any  words  that  I 
can  use,  to  express,  to  the  extent  of  my  thoughts, 
the  danger  of  suffering  young  people  to  form  their 
opinions  from  the  writings  of  poets  and  romancers. 


I'll 


1 


t' 

II 


238 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


I'll    ''*u 


f] 


I- 


:«!', 

M' 

<  1 ' 

l! 

■  y<    - 

I  ji 

fH:       ■ 

■;l. 

IX 

i  1  '^ 

\  *7! 

lll 

y 

Nine  times  out  of  ten,  the  morality  they  teach  is 
bad,  and  must  have  a  bad  tendency.  Their  wit  is 
employed  to  ridicule  virtue^  as  you  will  almost  al- 
ways find,  if  you  examine  the  matter  to  the  bottom. 
The  world  owes  a  very  large  part  of  its  sufferings 
to  tyrants ;  but  what  tyrant  was  there  amongst  the 
ancients,  whom  the  poets  did  not  place  amongst  the 
gods!  Can  you  open  an  English  poet,  without,  in 
some  part  or  other  of  his  works,  finding  the  gross- 
est flatteries  of  royal  and  noble  persons  ?  How  are 
young  people  not  to  think  that  the  praises  bestowed 
on  these  persons  are  just?  Dryden,  Parnell,  Gay, 
Thomson,  in  short,  what  poet  have  we  had,  or  have 
we,  Pope  only  excepted,  who  was  not,  or  is  not,  a 
pensioner,  or  a  sinecure  placeman,  or  the  wretched 
dependent  of  some  part  of  the  Aristocracy  ?  Of  the 
extent  of  the  powers  of  writers  in  producing  mis- 
chief to  a  nation,  we  have  two  most  striking  instan- 
ces in  the  cases  of  Dr.  Johnson  and  Burke.  The 
former,  at  a  time  when  it  was  a  question  whether 
war  should  be  made  on  America  to  compel  her  to 
submit  to  be  taxed  by  the  English  parliament,  wrote 
a  pamphlet,  entitled,  "  Taxatiwi  no  Tyranny^'^  to 
urge  the  nation  into  that  war.  The  latter,  when  it 
was  a  question,  whether  England  should  wage  war 
against  the  people  of  France,  to  prevent  them  from 
reforming  their  government,  wrote  a  pamphlet  to 
urge  the  nation  into  that  war.  The  first  war  lost  us 
America,  the  last  cost  us  six  hundred  millions  of 
money,  and  has  loaded  us  with  forty  millions  a  year 
of  taxes.  Johnson,  however,  got  a  pension  far  his 
life,  and  Bdrke  a  pension  for  his  life,  and  for  three 
lives  after  his  own !  Cumberland  and  Murphy,  the 
play-writers,  were  pensioners ;  and,  in  short,  of  the 
whole  mass,  where  has  there  been  one,  whom  the 
people  were  not  compelled  to  pay  for  labours,  having 
for  their  principal  object  the  deceiving  and  enslaving 
of  that  same  people  ?  It  is,  therefore,  the  duty  of 
every  father,  when  he  puts  a  book  into  the  hands  of 
his  son  or  daughter,  to  give  the  reader  a  true  account 
of  who  and  what  the  writer  of  the  book  was,  or  is. 


[Letter 

;hey  teach  is 
Their  wit  is 
ill  almost  al- 
0  the  bottom, 
its  sufferings 
;  amongst  the 
B  amongst  the 
;t,  without,  in 
ng  the  gross- 
is  1    How  are 
lises  bestowed 
?ARNELL,  Gay, 
e  had,  or  have 
t,  or  is  not,  a 
f  the  wretched 
racy?    Of  the 
roducing  mis- 
itriking  instau- 
i  Burke.    The 
3Stion  whether 
compel  her  to 
liament,  wrote 
Tyranny^''  to 
latter,  when  it 
ould  wage  war 
ent  them  from 
a  pamphlet  to 
irst  war  lost  us 
ed  millions  of 
millions  a  year 
pension  for  his 
e,  and  for  three 
id  Murphy,  the 
in  short,  of  the 
one,  whom  the 
labours,  having 
g  and  enslaving 
ore,  the  duty  of 
ito  the  hands  of 
r  a  true  account 
>ok  was,  or  is. 


V.J 


TO   A   FATHER. 


239 


314.  If  a  boy  be  intended  for  any  particular  call- 
ing, he  ought,  of  course,  to  be  induced  to  read  books 
relating  to  that  calling,  if  such  books  there  be ;  and, 
therefore,  I  shall  not  be  more  particular  on  that  head. 
But,  there  are  certain  things,  that  all  men  in  the 
middle  rank  of  life,  ought  to  know  something  of; 
because  the  knowledge  will  be  a  source  of  pleasure; 
nnd  because  the  want  of  it  must,  very  frequently, 
iv.  hem  pain,  by  making  them  appear  inferior,  in 
^io'  of  mind,  to  many  who  are,  in  fact,  their  infe- 
riors in  that  respect.  These  things  are  grammar^ 
arithmetic^  history^  accompanied  with  geogrcphy. 
Without  these,  a  man,  in  the  middle  rank  of  life, 
however  able  he  may  be  in  his  calling,  makes  but  an 
awkward  figure.  Without  grammar  he  cannot, 
with  safety  to  his  character  as  a  well-informed  man, 
put  his  thoughts  upon  paper ;  nor  can  he  be  sure, 
that  he  is  speaking  with  propriety.  How  many  clever 
men  have  J  known,  full  of  natural  talent,  eloquent 
by  nature,  replete  with  every  thing  calculated  to 
give  them  weight  in  society ;  and  yet  having  little 
or  no  weight,  merely  because  unable  to  put  correct- 
ly upon  paper  that  which  they  have  in  their  minds  ! 
For  me  not  to  say,  that  I  deem  my  English  Gram- 
mar the  best  book  for  teaching  this  science,  would 
be  affectation,  and  neglect  of  duty  besides;  because 
I  know,  that  it  is  the  best ;  because  I  wrote  it  for  the 
purpose;  and  because,  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
men  and  women  have  told  me,  some  verbally,  and 
some  by  letter,  that,  though  (many  of  them)  at 
grammar  schools  for  years,  they  really  never  Imew 
any  thing  of  grammar,  until  they  studied  my  book. 
I,  who  know  well  all  the  difficulties  that  I  experi- 
enced when  I  read  books  upon  the  subject,  can  easily 
believe  this,  and  especially  when  I  think  of  the  nu- 
merous instances  in  which  I  have  seen  university- 
scholars  unable  to  write  English,  with  any  tolerable 
degree  of  correctness.  In  this  book,  the  principles 
are  so  clearly  explained,  that  the  disgust  arising  from 
intricacy  is  avoided ;  and  it  is  this  disgust,  that  is 
the  great  and  mortal  enemyof  acquiring  knowledge. 


I   I 

i 


] 


:1 


if' 


r  I 


I -Ms 

I'-       -rif    'i  ■ 

■)yk 

fi    r     '»  S'-i" 
■    -I  i  ■) 


:f: 


'dy    J 


I"  I 
i'   ) 

■■'•'  ! 

It :   I 

I 


'1  ■  i 


%-.H 


n. 

if 


11  \ 


,11     ,:. 


ar):^ 


I  ,  ■  1', ,,  ■  1 


i  m 


I     KA, 


i' 


I 


i«:ttl^ 


t.'!! 


mi 

IV.'     r    1^  ill       -9 


240 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


315.  With  regard  to  arithmetic,  it  is  a  branch  of 
learning  absolutely  necessary  to  every  one,  who  has 
any  pecuniary  transactions  beyond  those  arising 
out  of  the  expenditure  of  his  week's  wages.  All 
the  books  on  this  subject  that  I  had  ever  seen,  were 
so  bad,  so  destitute  of  every  thing  calculated  to  leed 
the  mind  into  a  knowledge  of  the  matter,  so  void  of 
principles,  and  so  evidently  tending  to  puzzle  and 
disgust  the  learner,  by  their  sententious,  and  crab- 
bed, and  quaint,  and  almost  hieroglyphical  defini- 
tions, that  I,  at  one  time,  had  the  intention  of  wri- 
ting a  Uttle  work  on  the  subject  myself.  It  was  put 
off,  from  one  cause  or  another ;  but  a  little  work  on 
the  subject  has  been,  partly  at  my  suggestion,  writ- 
ten and  published  by  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  of  Liver- 
pool, and  is  sold  by  Mr.  Sherwood,  in  London. 
The  author  has  great  ability,  and  a  perfect  know- 
ledge of  his  subject.  It  is  a  book  of  principles ; 
and  any  young  person  of  common  capacity,  will 
learn  more  from  it  in  a  week,  than  from  all  the 
other  books,  that  I  ever  saw  on  the  subject,  in  a 
twelvemonth. 

316.  While  the  foregoing  studies  are  proceeding, 
though  they  very  well  afford  a  relief  to  each  other, 
HISTORY  may  serve  as  a  relaxation,  particularly  du- 
ring the  study  of  grammar,  which  is  an  undertaking 
requiring  patience  and  time.  Of  all  history,  that 
of  our  own  country  is  of  the  most  importance ;  be- 
cause, for  a  want  of  a  thorough  knowledge  of  what 
has  been,  we  are,  in  many  cases,  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  what  is,  and  still  more  at  a  loss  to  be  able  to  show 
what  ou^ht  to  be.  The  difference  between  history  and 
romance  is  this ;  that  that  which  is  narrated  in  the  lat- 
ter, leaves  in  the  mind  nothing  which  it  can  apply  to 
present  or  future  circumstances  and  events ;  while 
the  former,  when  it  is  what  it  ought  to  be,  leaves  the 
mind  stored  with  arguments  for  experience,  applica- 
ble, at  all  times,  to  the  actual  affairs  of  life.  The 
history  of  a  country  ought  to  show  the  origin  and 
progress  of  its  institutions,  political,  civil,  and  eccle- 
siastical ;  it  ought  to  show  the  effects  of  those  iiisti- 


[Letter     I  VJ 


TO  A  FATHER. 


241 


i  a  branch  of 
)ne,  who  has 
tiose  arising 
wages.  All 
er  seen,  were 
iilated  to  leed 
er,  so  void  of 

0  puzzle  and 
us,  and  crab- 
phical  defini- 
ntion  of  wri- 
f.  It  was  put 
little  work  on 
[gestion,  writ- 
iTH  of  Liver- 
,  in  London, 
perfect  know- 
of  principles ; 
capacity,  will 

1  from  all  the 
B  subject,  in  a 

•6  proceeding, 
to  each  other, 
articularly  du- 
in  undertaking 

history,  that 
iportance ;  be- 
^ledge  of  what 
loss  to  account 
e  able  to  show 
en  history  and 
rated  in  the  lat- 
it  can  apply  to 
events ;  while 
}  be,  leaves  the 
ience,  applica- 

ofhfe.  The 
the  origin  and 
ivil,  and  eccle- 

of  those  insti- 


tutions upon  the  state  of  the  people ;  Tt  ought  to  de- 
lineate the  measures  of  the  government  at  the  seve- 
ral epochs ;  and,  having  clearly  described  the  state 
of  the  people  at  the  several  periods,  it  ought  to 
show  the  cause  of  their  freedom,  good  morals, 
and  happiness ;  or  of  their  misery,  immorality,  and 
slavery;  and  this,  too,  by  the  production  of  indubi- 
table facts,  and  of  inferences  so  manifestly  fair,  as  to 
leave  not  the  smallest  doubt  upon  the  mind. 

317.  Do  the  histories  of  England  which  we  have, 
answer  this  description  7  They  are  very  little  bet- 
ter than  romances.  Their  contents  are  generally 
confined  to  narrations  relating  to  battles,  negocia- 
tions,  intrigues,  contests  between  rival  sovereignties, 
rival  nobles,  and  to  the  character  of  kings,  queens, 
mistresses,  bishops,  ministers,  and  the  like;  from 
scarcely  any  of  which  can  the  reader  draw  any 
knowledge  which  is  at  all  applicable  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  present  day. 

318.  Besides  this,  there  is  the  falsehood  ;  and  the 
falsehoods  contained  in  these  histories,  where  shall 
we  find  any  thing  to  surpass  ?  Let  us  take  one  in- 
stance. They  all  tell  us  that  William  the  Conque- 
ror knocked  down  twenty-six  parish  churches,  and 
laid  waste  the  parishes  in  order  to  make  the  New 
Forest ;  and  this  in  a  tract  of  the  very  poorest  land 
in  England,  where  the  churches  must  then  have  stood 
at  about  one  mile  and  two  hundred  yards  from  each 
other.  The  truth  is,  that  all  the  churches  are  still 
standing  that  were  there  when  William  landed,  and 
the  whole  story  is  a  sheer  falsehood  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end. 

319.  But,  this  is  a  mere  specimen  of  these  roman- 
ices;  and  that  too,  with  regard  to  a  matter  compara- 
tively unimportant  to  us.  The  important  falsehoods 
are,  those  which  misguide  us  by  statement  or  by  in- 
ference, with  regard  to  the  state  of  the  people  at  the 
several  epochs,  as  produced  by  the  institutions  of  the 
country,  or  the  measures  of  the  Government.  It  is 
jalways  the  object  of  those  who  have  power  in  their 
Ihands,  to  persuade  the  people  that  they  are  better  off 

21 


■■<.■'. 


'•i 


ir. 


n. 


!■  V" 


243 


COBBElVs  ADVICE 


L  Letter 


W. 


F-l 


I,  i::e 


iii^,'-    !': 


1         (; 


i 


11 '1:';.' ,  :i !■■"■•; 


I  'ill    ' 
(I 


-  i  ■■ 


mmi>U' 


I 

\   '■ 

i     , 


•5:^; 


;.<(! 


than  their  forefathers  were :  it  is  the  great  business 
of  history  to  show  how  this  matter  stands ;  and, 
with  respect  to  this  great  matter,  what  are  we  to 
learn  from  any  thing  tiiat  has  hitherto  been  called  a 
history  of  England  !  I  remember,  that,  about  a  do 
zen  years  ago,  I  was  talking  with  a  very  clever 
young  man,  who  had  read  twice  or  thrice  over  the 
History  of  England,  by  different  authors ;  and  that 
I  gave  the  conversation  a  turn  that  drew  from  him, 
unperceived  by  himself,  that  he  did  not  know  how 
tithes,  parishes,  poor-rates,  church-rates,  and  the 
abolition  of  trial  by  jury  in  hundreds  of  cases,  came 
to  be  in  England ;  and,  that  he  had  not  the  smallest 
idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Duke  of  Bedford 
came  to  possess  the  power  of  taxing  our  cabbages 
in  Covent-Garden.  Yet,  this  is  history.  I  have 
done  a  great  deal,  with  regard  to  matters  of  this 
sort,  in  my  famous  History  of  the  Protestant  Re- 
roRMATioN  ;  for  I  may  truly  call  that  famous,  which 
has  been  translated  and  published  in  all  the  moden. 


languages. 

But,  it  is  reserved  for  me  to  write  a  com- 


320. 


plete  history  of  the  country  from  the  earliest  times 
to  the  present  day;  and  this,  God  giving  me  life 
and  health,  I  shall  begin  to  do  in  monthly  numbers, 
beginning  on  the  first  of  September,  and  in  which  I 
shall  endeavour  to  combine  brevity  with  clearness. 
We  do  not  want  to  consume  our  time  over  a  dozen 
pages  about  Edward  the  Third  dancing  at  a  ball, 
picking  up  a  lady's  garter,  and  making  that  garter 
the  foundation  of  an  order  of  knighthood,  bearing 
the  motto  of  "  Honi  soil  qui  mnl  y  pense.^^  It  is  not 
stuff  like  this ;  but  we  want  to  know  what  was  the 
state  of  the  people ;  what  were  a  labourer's  wages; 
what  were  the  prices  of  the  food,  and  how  the  la- 
bourers were  dressed  in  the  reign  of  that  great  king. 
What  is  a  young  person  to  imbibe  from  a  history 
of  England,  as  it  is  called,  like  that  of  Goldsmith? 
It  is  a  little  romance  to  amuse  chiMren ;  and  the 
other  historians  have  given  us  larger  romances 
to  amuse  lazy  persons  who  are  grown  up     To  de- 


H 


th 
all 
so 
Y( 

r, 

no 
o^ 
no 


iLetterl  V.] 


TO  A  PATHEH. 


243 


1  great  business 
;r  stands ;  and, 
A'hat  are  we  to 
to  been  called  a 
hatj  about  a  do 
a  very  clever 
thrice  over  the 
ithors;  and  that 
drew  from  him, 
,  not  know  how 
i-ratesj  and  the 
is  of  cases,  came 
not  the  smallest 
)uke  of  Bedford 
ng  our  cabbages 
history.    I  have 
I  matters  of  this 
Protestant  Ke- 
at  famous,  which 
in  all  the  moderi; 

i 

'^ 

to  write  a  com- 1 
the  earliest  times  ^ 
d  giving  me  life 
[lonthly  numbers, 
ir,  and  in  which  1 
,y  with  clearness, 
me  over  a  dozen 
ancing  at  a  ball, 
aking  that  garter 
ghthood,  bearing 
'penseP    It  is  not 
ow  what  was  the 
labourer's  wages; 
,  and  how  the  la- 
)f  that  great  king. 
le  from  a  history 
at  of  Goldsmith? 
jhiMren ;  and  the 
larger  romancfs 
rown  up     To  de* 


stroy  the  effects  of  these,  and  to  make  the  people 
know  what  their  country  has  been,  will  be  my  ob- 
ject ;  and  this,  I  trust,  I  shall  effect.  We  are,  it  is 
said,  to  have  a  History  of  England  from  Sm  James 
Mackintosh  ;  a  History  of  Scotland  from  Sm  Wal- 
ter Scott  ;  and  a  History  of  Ireland  from  Tommy 
Moore,  the  luscious  poet.  A  Scotch  lawyer,  who  is 
a  pensioner,  and  a  member  for  Knaresborough, 
which  is  well  known  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire, 
who  has  the  great  tithes  of  twenty  parishes  in  Ire- 
land, will,  doubtless,  write  a  most  impartial  History 
of  England,  and  particularly  as  far  as  relates  to 
horoughs  and  tithes.  A  Scotch  romance-writer, 
who,  under  the  name  of  Malagrowiher^  wrote  a 
pamplet  to  prove,  that  one-pound  notes  were  the 
cause  of  riches  to  Scotland,  will  write,  to  be  sure,  a 
most  instructive  History  of  Scotland.  And,  from 
the  pen  of  an  Irish  poet,  who  is  a  sinecure  place- 
man and  a  protege  of  an  English  peer  that  has  im- 
mense parcels  of  Irish  confiscated  estates,  what  a 
'-."putiful  history  shall  we  not  then  have  of  unfortu^ 
G  9  Ireland  !  Oh,  no  !  We  are  not  going  to  be 
content  with  stuff  such  as  these  men  will  bring  out^ 
Hume  and  Smollett  and  Robertson  have  cheated  us 
long  enough.  We  are  not  in  a  humour  to  be  cheat- 
ed any  longer. 

321.  Geography  is  taught  at  schools,  if  we  be- 
lieve the  school-cards.  The  scholars  can  tell  you  all 
about  the  divisions  of  the  earth,  and  this  is  very  well 
for  persons  who  have  leisure  to  indulge  their  curio- 
sity; but  it  does  seem  to  me  monstrous  that  a 
young  person's  time  should  be  spent  in  ascertaining 
the  boundaries  of  Persia  or  China,  knowing  nothing 
all  the  while  about  the  boundaries,  the  rivers,  the 
soil,  or  the  products,  or  of  the  any  thing  else  of 
Yorkshire  or  Devonshire.  The  first  thing  in  geo- 
igraphy  is  to  know  that  of  the  country  in  which  we 
live,  especially  that  in  which  we  were  born  ;  I  have 
now  seen  almost  every  hill  and  valley  in  it  with  my 
own  eyes ;  nearly  every  city  and  every  town,  and 
no  small  part  of  the  whole  of  the  villages.    I  am 


U 


244 


cobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


u:m^^¥ 


therefore  qualified  to  give  an  account  of  the  country; 
and  that  account,  under  the  title  of  Geographical 
Dictionary  of  England  and  Wales,  I  am  now  ha- 
ving printed  as  a  companion  to  my  history.  ^ 

322.  When  a  young  man  well  understands  the 
geography  of  his  own  country ;  when  he  has  refer- 
red to  maps  on  this  smaller  scale :  when,  in  short, 
he  knows  ail  about  his  own  country ;  and  is  able  to 
apply  his  knowledge  to  useful  purposes,  he  may 
look  at  other  countries,  and  particularly  at  those,  the 
powers  or  measures  of  which  are  likely  to  affect  his 
own  country.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  us  to  be 
well  acquainted  with  the  extent  of  France,  the  Uni- 
ted States,  Portugal,  Spain,  Mexico,  Turkey,  and 
Russia  ;  but  what  need  we  care  about  the  tribes  of 
Asia  and  Africa,  the  condition  of  which  can  affect 
us  no  more  than  we  would  be  affected  by  any  thing 
that  is  passing  in  the  moon  ? 

323.  When  people  have  nothing  useful  to  do, 
they  may  indulge  their  curiosity ;  but,  merely  to 
read  books,  is  not  to  be  industrious,  is  not  to  study, 
and  is  not  the  way  to  become  learned.  Perhaps  there 
are  none  more  lazy,  or  more  truly  ignorant,  than 
your  everlasting  readers.  A  book  is  an  admirable 
excuse  for  sitting  still ;  and,  a  man  who  has  con- 
stantly a  newspaper,  a  magazine,  a  review,  or  some 
book  or  other  in  his  hand,  gets,  at  last,  his  head 
stuffed  with  such  a  jumble,  that  he  knows  not  what 
to  think  about  any  thing.  An  empty  coxcomb,  that 
wastes  his  time  in  dressing,  strutting,  or  strolling 
about,  and  picking  his  teeth,  is  certainly  a  most 
despicable  creature,  but  scarcely  less  so  than  a  mere 
reader  of  books,  who  is  generally  conceited,  thinks 
himself  wiser  than  other  men,  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  leaves  that  he  has  turned  over.  In  short, 
a  young  man  should  bestow  his  time  upon  no  book, 
the  contents  of  which  he  cannot  apply  to  some  use- 
ful purpose. 

324.  Books  of  travel,  of  biography,  natural  histo- 1 
ry,  and  particularly  such  as  relate  to  agriculture  and  j 
horticulture,  are  all  proper,  when  leisure  is  afforded , 


ill. 


[Letter  I   'V-l 


TO  A  FATHER. 


245 


■i 


of  the  country; 
'  Geographical 
I  am  now  ha- 
Lstory.' 

tiderstands  the 
►n  he  has  refer- 
«rhen,  in  short, 
;  and  is  able  to 
poseSj  he  may 
rly  at  those,  the 
:ely  to  affect  his 
iance  to  us  to  be 
♦"ranee,  the  Uni- 
0,  Turkey,  and 
>ut  the  tribes  of 
which  can  affect 
;ed  by  any  thing 

g  useful  to  do, 
;  but,  merely  to 
,  is  not  to  study, 
d.  Perhaps  there 
f  ignorant,  than 
L  is  an  admirable 
in  who  has  con- 
review,  or  some 
it  last,  his  head 
knows  not  what 
)ty  coxcomb,  that 
ting,  or  strolling 
certainly  a  most 
ss  so  than  a  mere 
conceited,  thinks 
proportion  to  the 
d  over.    In  short, 
ne  upon  no  book, 
iply  to  some  nse- 

)hy,  natural  histo- 
0  agriculture  and 
leisure  is  afforded 


for  them ;  and  the  two  last  are  useful  to  a  very  great 
part  of  mankind ;  but  unless  the  subjects  treated  of 
are  of  some  interest  to  us  in  our  affairs,  no  time 
should  be  wasted  upon  them,  when  there  are  so 
many  duties  demanded  at  our  hands  by  our  families 
and  our  country.  A  man  may  read  books  for  ever, 
and  be  an  ignorant  creature  at  last,  and  even  the 
more  ignorant  for  his  reading. 

325.  And,  with  regard  to  young  women,  everlast- 
ing book -reading  is  absolutely  a  vice.  When  they 
once  get  into  the  habit,  they  neglect  all  other  matters, 
and,  in  some  cases,  even  their  very  dress.  Attend- 
ing to  the  affairs  of  the  house ;  to  the  washing,  the 
baking,  the  brewing,  the  preservation  and  cook- 
ing of  victuals,  the  management  of  the  poultry  and 
the  garden ;  these  are  their  proper  occupations.  It 
is  said  (with  what  truth  I  know  not)  of  the  present 
Queen  (wife  of  William  IV.,)  that  she  was  an  active  * 
excellent  manager  of  her  house.  Impossible  to  be- 
stow on  her  greater  praise :  and  I  trust  that  her  ex- 
ample will  have  its  due  effect  on  the  young  women 
of  the  present  day,  who  stand,  but  too  generally,  in 
need  of  that  example. 

326.  The  great  fault  of  the  present  generation,  is, 
that,  in  all  ranks,  the  notions  of  self-importance  are 
too  high.  This  has  arisen  from  causes  not  visible  to 
many,  but  the  consequences  are  felt  by  all,  and 
that,  too,  with  great  severity.  There  has  been  a 
general  sublimating  going  on  for  many  years.  Not 
to  put  the  word  Esquire  before  the  name  of  almost 
any  man  who  is  not  a  mere  labourer  or  artizan,  is 
almost  an  affront.  Every  merchant,  every  master- 
manufacturer,  every  dealer,  if  at  all  rich,  is  an  Es- 
quire  ;  squires'  sons  must  he  gentlemen.,  and  squires' 
wives  and  daughters  ladies.  If  this  were  all;  if  it 
were  merely  a  ridiculous  misapplication  of  words, 
the  evil  would  not  be  great ;  but,  unhappily,  words 
lead  to  acts  and  produce  things ;  and  the  "  young 
gentleman^'*  is  not  easily  to  be  moulded  into  a  trades- 
man or  a  working  farmer.  And  yet  the  world  is 
too  small  to  hold  so  many  gentlemen  and  ladiet, 

21* 


iN 


■ 


f  p 


il  .iiM 


'':  t 


!  i^!'; 


■ '         1        i^  'si  'k 


;  ■;    n' 


■  '■\< 


:%r^m 


i  ■  m  i 


1 1  ■ 


^* 


246 


COBBETT^S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


How  many  thousands  of  young  men  have,  at  this 
moment,  cause  to  lament  that  they  are  not  carpen- 
ters, or  masons,  or  tailors,  or  shoemakers ;  and  how 
many  thousands  of  those,  that  they  have  been  bred 
up  to  wish  to  disguise  their  honest  and  useful,  and 
therefore  honourable,  calling !  Rousseau  observes, 
-  that  men  are  happy,  first,  in  proportion  to  their  vir- 
tue, and  next,  in  proportion  to  their  independence; 
and  that,  of  all  mankind,  the  artizan,  or  craftsman, 
is  the  most  independent ;  because  he  carries  about 
in  his  own  hands  and  person,  the  means  of  gaining 
his  livelihood ;  and  that  the  more  common  the  use 
of  the  articles  on  which  he  works,  the  more  perfect 
his  independence.  "  Where,"  says  he,  "  there  is  one 
"  man  that  stands  in  need  of  the  talents  of  the  den- 
"  tist,  there  are  a  hundred  thousand  that  want  those 
**  of  the  people  who  supply  the  matter  for  the  teeth 
"  to  work  on ;  and  for  one  who  wants  a  sonnet  to 
"  regale  his  fancy,  there  are  a  million  clamouring 
"  for  men  to  make  or  mend  their  shoes."  Aye,  and 
this  is  the  reason,  why  shoemakers  are  proverbially 
the  most  independent  part  of  the  people,  and  why 
they,  in  general,  show  more  public  spirit  than  any 
other  men.  He  who  lives  by  a  pursuit,  be  it  what 
it  may,  which  does  not  require  a  considerable  degree 
oi  bodily  labour,  must,  from  the  nature  of  things,  be, 
more  or  less,  a  dependent ;  and  this  is,  indeed,  the 
price  which  he  pays  for  his  exemption  from  that 
bodily  labour.  He  may  arrive  at  riches,  or  fame,  or 
both ;  and  this  chance  he  sets  against  the  certainty 
of  independence  in  humbler  life.  There  always 
have  been,  there  always  will  be,  and  there  always 
ought  to  be,  some  men  to  take  this  chance ;  but  to  do 
this  has  become  the  fashion,  and  a  fashion  it  is  the 
most  fatal  that  ever  seized  upon  a  community. 

327.  With  regard  to  young  women,  too,  to  sing, 
to  play  on  instruments  of  music,  to  draw,  to  speak 
Frencn,  and  the  like,  are  very  agreeable  qualifica- 
tions ;  but  why  should  thev  ail  be  musicians,  and 
painters,  and  linguists  1  Why  all  of  them  ?  Who, 
then,  is  there  left  to  take  care  of  the  houses  of  far- 


,       [Letter 

have,  at  this 
re  not  carpen- 
Lers  J  and  how 
lave  been  bred 
nd  useful,  and 
sEAU  observes, 
on  to  their  vir- 
independence ; 
,  or  craftsman, 
J  carries  about 
;ans  of  gaming 
jmmon  the  use 
le  more  perfect 
le,  "  there  is  one 
ents  of  the  den- 
that  want  those 
ter  for  the  teeth 
mts  a  sonnet  to 
[ion  clamouring 
oes."    Aye,  and 
are  proverbially 
)eople,  and  why 
e  spirit  than  any 
rsuit,  be  it  what 
isiderable  degree 
ure  of  things,  be, 
s  is,  indeed,  the 
jption  from  that 
ches,  or  fame,  or 
nst  the  certainty 
There  always 
ind  there  always 
;hance ;  but  to  do 
I  fashion  it  is  the 
lommunity. 
aen,  too,  to  sine, 
,0  draw,  to  speak 
reeable  quahfica- 
e  musicians,  and 
of  them  1    Who, 
the  houses  of  far- 


V.J 


^0  A  FATHER. 


fur 


men  and  traders  ?  But  there  is  something  in  these 
'*  accomplishments"  worse  than  this ;  namely,  that 
they  think  themselves  too  high  for  farmers  and  tra- 
ders :  and  this,  in  fact,  they  are  j  much  too  high ; 
and,  therefore,  the  servant-girls  step  in  and  supply 
their  place.  If  they  could  see  their  own  interest, 
surely  they  would  drop  this  lofty  tone,  and  these 
lofty  airs.  It  is,  however,  the  fault  of  the  parents, 
and  particularly  of  the  father,  whose  duty  it  is  to 
prevent  them  from  imbibing  such  notions,  and  to 
show  them,  that  the  greatest  honour  they  ought  to 
aspire  t<  *s,  th'>'*ough  skill  and  care  in  the  economy 
of  a  hca«e.  e  are  all  apt  to  r  t  "  ^o  high  a  value 
on  what  we  ou* .  v;lveshave  done ;  and  I  may  do  this ; 
but  I  do  firmly  believe,  that  to  cure  any  young  w^o- 
man  of  this  fatal  sublimation,  she  has  only  patiently 
to  read  mjr  Cottage  Economy,  written  with  an 
anxious  desire  to  promote  domestic  skill  and  ability 
in  that  sex,  on  whom  so  much  of  the  happiness  of 
man  must  always  depend.  A  lady  in  Worcester- 
shire told  me,  that  until  she  read  Cottage  Economy 
she  had  never  baked  in  the  house,  and  had  sel- 
dom had  good  beer  ;  that,  ever  since,  she  had  looked 
after  both  herself;  that  the  pleasure  she  had  derived 
from  it,  was  equal  to  the  profit,  and  that  the  latter 
was  very  great.  She  said,  that  the  article  "  on  bar 
king  brecui,^^  was  the  part  that  roused  her  to  the 
undertaking ;  and,  indeed,  if  the  facts  and  argu- 
ments, there  made  use  of,  failed  to  stir  her  up  to  ac- 
tion, she  must  have  been  stone  dead  to  the  power  of 
words. 

;  328.  After  the  age  that  we  have  now  been  suppo- 
sing, boys  and  girls  become  men  and  women  ;  and, 
there  now  only  remains  iotihQ  father  to  act  towards 
them  with  impartiality.  If  they  be  numerous,  or, 
indeed,  if  they  be  only  two  in  number,  to  expect 
wrfect  harmony  to  reign  amongst,  or  between,  them, 
IS  to  be  unreasonable ;  because  experience  shows  us, 
that,  even  amongst  the  most  sober,  most  virtuous, 
and  most  sensible,  harmony  so  complete  is  very 
rare.   By  nature  they  are  rivals  for  the  affection  and 


- '  *   I 


1 


i! 


248 


COBBErr'«  ADVICE 


[Letter 


h  'i  i 


J,    !! 


,♦, : 


i  m 


Li       ■    i  ■' 


^^i. ' 


applatise  of  the  parents ;  in  personal  and  mental 
endowments  they  become  rivals ;  and,  when  pecuni' 
ary  interests  come  to  be  well  understood  and  to  have 
their  weight,  here  is  a  rivalship,  to  prevent  which 
from  ending  in  hostility,  require  more  affection  and 
greater  disinterestedness  than  fall  to  the  lot  of  one 
out  of  one  hundred  families.  So  many  instances 
have  I  witnessed  of  good  and  amiable  families  living 
in  harmony,  till  the  hour  arrived  for  dividing  pro- 
perty amongst  them,  and  then,  all  at  once,  becoming 
hostile  to  each  other,  that  I  have  often  thought  that 
property,  coming  in  such  a  way,  was  a  curse,  and 
that  the  parties  would  have  been  far  better  off,  had 
the  parent  had  merely  a  blessing  to  bequeath  them 
from  his  or  her  lips,  instead  of  a  will  for  them  to  dis- 
pute and  wrangle  over. 

329.  With  regard  to  this  matter,  all  that  the  father 
can  do,  is  to  be  impartial;  but,  impartiality  does 
not  mean  positive  equality  in  the  distribution,  but 
equality  in  proportion  to  the  different  deserts  of  the 
parties,  their  different  wants,  their  different  pecunia- 
ry circumstances,  and  different  prospects  in  life; 
and  these  vary  so  much,  in  different  families,  that  it 
is  impossible  to  lay  down  any  general  rule  upon  the 
subject.  But  there  is  one  fatal  error,  against  which 
every  father  ought  to  guard  his  heart ;  and  the  kind- 
er that  heart  is,  the  more  necessary  such  guardian- 
ship. I  mean  the  fatal  error  of  heaping  upon  one 
child,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  rest ;  or,  upon  a  part 
of  them.  This  partiality  sometimes  arises  from 
mere  caprice ;  sometimes  from  the  circumstance  of 
the  favourite  being  more  favoured  by  nature  than 
the  rest ;  sometimes  from  the  nearer  resemblance  to 
himself,  that  the  father  sees  in  the  favourite ;  and, 
sometimes,  from  the  hope  of  preventing  the  favour- 
ed party  from  doing  that  which  would  disgrace  the 
Sarent.  All  these  motives  are  highly  censurable, 
ut  the  last  is  the  most  general,  and  by  far  the  most 
mischievous  in  its  effects.  •  How  many  fathers  have 
been  ruined,  how  many  mothers  and  famiHes 
brought  to  beggary,  how  many  industrious  and  vir- 


i-i 


■u  ;«  4 


i? 

m 


[Letter 

and  mental 
when  pecuni- 
d  and  to  have 
revent  which 
!  affection  and 
Ihe  lot  of  one 
my  instances 
families  living 
■  dividing  pro- 
nce,  becoming 
I  thought  that 
s  a  curse,  and 
better  off,  had 
)equeath  them 
or  them  to  dis- 

that  the  father 
partiality  does 
istribution,  but 
t  deserts  of  the 
ferent  pecunia- 
(spects  in  life; 
families,  that  it 
1  rule  upon  the 
,  against  which 
;  and  the  kind- 
such  guardian- 
ping  upon  one 
or,  upon  a  part 
es  arises  from 
jjrcumstance  of 
by  nature  than 
resemblance  to 
favourite;  and, 
ting  the  favour- 
uld  disgrace  the 
rhly  censurable, 
by  far  the  most 
iny  fathers  have 
•s   and  famihes 
wtrious  and  vir- 


V.] 


TO  A   FATHER. 


249 


tuous  groups  have  been  pulled  down  from  compe- 
tence to  penury,  from  the  desire  to  prevent  one 
from  bringing  shame  on  the  parent !    So  that,  con- 
trary to  every  principle  of  justice,  the  bad  is  re- 
warded for  the  badness ;  and  the  good  punished  for 
the  goodness.    Natural  affection,  remembrance  of 
infantine  endearments,  reluctance  to  abandon  long- 
cherished   hopes,  compassion    for  the   sufferings 
of  your  own  flesh  and  blood,  the  dread  of  fatal 
consequences,  from  your  adhering  to  justice;  all 
these  beat  at  your  heart,  and  call  on  you  to  give 
way :  but,  you  must  resist  them  all ;  or,  your  ru- 
in,  and  that  of  the  rest  of  your  family,  are  de- 
creed.   Suffering  is  the  natural  and  just  punishment 
of  idleness,  drunkenness,  squandering,  and  an  indul- 
gence in  the  society  of  prostitutes ;  and  never  did 
the  world  behold  an  instance  of  an  offender,  in  this 
way,  reclaimed  but  by  the  infliction  of  this  punish- 
ment;  particularly,  if  the  society  of  prostitutes 
made  part  of  the  offence ;  for,  here  is  something  that 
takes  the  heart  from  you.    Nobody  ever  yet  saw, 
and  nobody  ever  will  see,  a  young  man,  linked  to  a 
prostitute,  and  retain,  at  the  same  time,  any,  even 
the  smallest    degree  of  affection,  for  parents  or 
brethren.    You  may  supplicate,  you  may  implore, 
you  may  leave  yourself  pennyless,  and  your  virtu- 
ous children  without  bread ;  the  invisible  cormorant 
will  still  call  for  more  j  and,  as  we  saw,  only  the 
other  day,  a  wretch  was  convicted  of  having,  at  the 
instigation  of  his  prostitute,  beaten  his  aged  mother^ 
to  get  from  her  the  small  remains  of  the  means 
necessary  to  provide  her  with  food.    In  Heron's 
collection  of  God's  judgment  on  wicked  acts,  it  is 
related  of  an  unnatural  son,  who  fed  his  aged  father 
upon  orts  and  offal,  lodged  him  in  a  filthy  and  crazy 
garret,  and  clothed  him   in  sackcloth,  while    he 
and  his  wife  and  children  lived  in  luxury ;  that, 
having  bought  sackcloth  enough  for  two  dresses  for 
his  father,  the  children  took  away  the  part  not  made 
up,  and  hid  it,  and  that,  upon  asking  them  what 
they  could  do  this  for,  they  told  him  that  they  meant 


■Jl 


it 


Ml' 

I 


"\\ 


■r 


n 


iU  '. 


!■}<■  '■■ 


250 


eOBBETT^S  ADVICB 


[Letter 


to  keep  it  far  him.  when  he  should  become  old  and 
walk  with  a  stick !  This,  the  autiior  relates,  pierced 
his  heart ;  and,  indeed,  if  this  failed,  he  must  have 
had  the  heart  of  a  tiger ;  but,  even  this  would  not 
succeed  with  the  associate  of  a  prostitute. .  When 
this  vice,  this  love  of  the  society  of  prostitutes ; 
when  this  vice  has  once  got  fast  hold,  vain  are  all 
your  sacrifices,  vain  your  prayers,  vain  your  hopes, 
vain  your  anxious  desire  to  disguise  the  shame  from 
the  world ;  and,  if  you  have  acted  well  your  part, 
no  part  of  that  shame  falls  on  you,  unless  you  have 
administered  to  the  cause  of  it.  Your  authority  has 
ceased ;  the  voice  of  the  prostitute,  or  the  charms  of 
the  bottle,  or  the  rattle  of  the  dice,  has  been  more 
powerful  than  your  advice  and  example ;  jom  must 
lament  this :  but,  it  is  not  to  bow  you  down ;  and, 
above  all  things,  it  is  weak,  and  even  criminally  sel- 
fish, to  sacrifice  the  rest  of  your  family,  in  order  to 
keep  from  the  world  the  knowledge  of  that,  which, 
if  known,  would,  in  your  view  of  the  matter,  bring 
shame  on  yourself. 

330.  Let  me  hope,  however,  that  this  is  a  calamity 
which  will  befall  very  few  good  fathers ;  and  that,  of 
all  such,  the  sober,  industrious,  and  frugal  habits  of 
their  children,  their  dutiful  demeanor,  their  truth 
and  their  integrity,  will  come  to  smooth  the  path 
of  their  downward  days,  and  be  the  objects  on  which 
their  eyes  will  close.  Those  children  must,  in  their 
turn,  travel  the  same  path ;  and  they  may  be  assured, 
that,  "  Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that  thy 
days  may  be  long  in  the  land,"  is  a  precept,  a  disre- 
gard of  which  never  yet  failed,  either  first  or  last,  to 
bring  its  punishment.  And,  what  can  be  more  just 
than  that  signal  punishment  should  follow  such  a 
crime ;  a  crime  directly  against  the  voice  of  nature 
itself?  Youth  has  its  passions,  and  due  allowance 
justice  will  make  for  these ;  but,  are  the  delusions 
of  the  boozer,  the  gamester,  or  the  harlot,  to  be 
pleaded  in  excuse  for  a  disregard  of  the  source  of 
your  existence?  Are  those  to  be  pleaded  in  apo- 
logy for  giving  pain  to  the  father  who  has  toijed 


[Letter 

!ome  old  and 
lates,  pierced 
e  must  have 
18  would  not 
lute.  ^  When 
prostitutes ; 
I,  vain  are  all 
1  your  hopes, 
e  shame  from 
ill  your  part, 
iless  you  have 
authority  has 
the  charms  of 
ias  been  more 
)le ;  3^ou  must 
u  down ;  and, 
criminally  sel- 
ily,  in  order  to 
of  that,  which, 
B  matter,  bring 

,s  is  a  calamity 
•s;  and  that,  of 
frugal  habits  of 
or,  their  truth 
looth  the  path 
)jects  on  which 
I  must,  in  their 
nay  be  assured, 
lother,  that  thy 
recept,  a  disre- 
•  first  or  last,  to 
an  be  more  just 

follow  such  a 
voice  of  nature 

due  allowance 
^  the  delusions 
e  harlot,  to  be 
f  the  source  of 
pleaded  in  apo- 

who  has  toijed 


v.] 


TO  ▲  CITIZEN. 


251 


half  a  life-time  in  order  to  feed  and  clothe  you,  and 
to  the  mother  whose  breast  has  been  to  you  the 
fountain  of  life  ?  Go,  you,  and  shake  the  hand  of 
the  boon-companion  ;  take  the  greedy  harlot  to  your 
arms :  mock  at  the  tears  of  your  tender  and  anxious 
parents ;  and,  when  your  purse  is  empty  and  your 
complexion  faded,  receive  the  poverty  and  the  scorn 
due  to  your  base  ingratitude ! 


LETTER  VL 


TO  THE  CITIZEN. 


33L  Having  now  given  my  Advice  to  the  Yodth, 
the  grown-up  Man,  the  Lover,  the  Husband  and  the 
Father,  I  shall,  in  this  concluding  Number,  tender 
my  Advice  to  the  Citizen,  in  which  capacity  every 
man  has  rights  to  enjoy  and  duties  to  perform,  and 
these  too  of  importance  not  inferior  to  those  which 
belong  to  him,  or  are  imposed  upon  him,  as  son,  pa- 
rent, husband  or  father.  The  word  citizen  is  not,  in 
hs  applicatfbn,  confined  to  the  mere  inhabitants  of 
cities :  it  m^ans,  a  member  of  a  civil  society,  or  cowi- 
munity  ;  and,  in  order  to  have  a  clear  comprehension 
of  man's  rights  and  duties  in  this  capacity,  we  must 
take  a  look  at  the  origin  of  civil  communities, 

332.  Time  was  when  the  inhabitants  of  this  island, 
for  instance,  laid  claim  to  all  thftig^n  it,  without  thb 
words  ovmer  or  property  being  known.  God  had 
given  to  all  the  people  all  the  land  and  all  the  trees, 
and  every  thing  else,  just  as  he  has  given  the  bur- 
rows and  the  grass  to  the  rabbits,  and  the  bushes  and 
the  berries  to  the  birds ;  and  each  man  had  the  good 
things  of  this  world  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  in 
proportion  to  his  skill,  his  strength  and  his  valour. 
This  is  what  is  called  living  under  the  Law  of  Na- 


J 


I 


252 


C0BBBT1''S  AOYICS 


[Letter 


:)  • 


TCRB ;  that  is  to  say,  the  law  of  self-preservation  avd 
self-enjoyment,  without  any  restraint  imposed  by  a 
regard  for  the  good  of  our  neighbours. 

333.  In  process  of  time,  no  matter  from  what 
cause,  men  made  amongst  themselves  a  compact,  or 
an  agreement,  to  divide  the  land  and  its  p':oauct8  in 
such  manner  that  each  should  have  a  sh.>re  to  his 
own  exclusive  use,  and  that  each  man  should  be 
protected  in  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  his  share  by 
the  tmited  power  of  the  rest ;  and,  in  order  to  ensure 
the  due  and  certain  application  of  this  united  power, 
the  whole  of  the  people  agreed  to  be  bound  by  regu- 
lations, called  Laws.  Thus  arose  civil  society ;  thus 
arose  property  ;  thus  arose  the  words  mine  and  thine. 
One  man  became  possessed  of  more  good  things  than 
another,  because  he  was  more  industrious,  more  skil- 
ful, more  careful,  or  more  frugal :  so  that  labour,  of 
one  sort  or  another,  was  the  basis  of  all  property. 

334.  In  what  manner  civil  societies  proceeded  in 
providing  for  the  making  of  laws  and  for  the  enforc- 
ing of  them;  the  various  ways  in  which  they  took 
measures  to  protect  the  weak  against  the  strong ; 
how  they  have  gone  to  work  to  secure  wealth  against 
the  attacks  of  poverty ;  these  are  subjects  that  it 
would  require  volumes  to  detail :  but  these  tniths 
are  written  on  the  heart  of  man :  that  jiU  men  are, 
by  nature,  equal ;  that  civi|  snpjpty  na^  n^y?^  ]\ii3M. 
arisen  from  any  motive  o^^er  than  that  of  the  benefit 

^  the  whole, i^XhaiU  whenever  civil  society  makes  the 


gffiatftr  part  W  flip  lipq^le^  wnrtse  off  than  thev  Were 
under  the  Law  of  Nature^  the  civil  compa^ct  is^  in 
dftnscience.  (jissoivea,  ana  all  tne  rights  of  nature 
I'euirn ;  tiiat,  m  flvii*  society,  the  rights  and  the  du- 
ties  go  hand  in  hand^  and  that,  when  the  former  are 
taken  away,  the  latter  cease  to  exist. 

335.  Now,  then,  in  order  to  act  well  our  part,  as 
citizens,  or  members  of  the  community,  we  ought 
clearly  to  understand  whut  mir  rights  are  ;  for,  on 
our  enjoyment  of  these  depend  our  duties,  rights 
going  before  duties,  as  value  received  goes  before 
payment.    I  know  well,  that  just  the  contrary  of 


^!.'^ 


V^ 


jl^ 


[Letter 

crvation  ar^ 
nposed  by  a 

•  from  what 
I  compact,  or 
8  products  in 
a  sh^re  to  his 
lan  should  be 
[his  share  by 
•der  to  ensure 
united  power, 
ound  by  regu- 
[  society ;  thus 
nine  and  thim, 
od  things  than 
ous,  more  skil- 
that  LABOUR,  of 
all  property. 
s  proceeded  in 
for  the  enforc- 
hich  they  took 
LSt  the  strong ; 
wealth  against 
subjects  that  it 
It  these  truths 

ill  men  are. 

neYeiJia»» 
fit  pf  the  benefit 


n.] 


TO  A  CITIZEN. 


253 


eietv  makesjhe 
"^n  theY_wer^ 

coi 

igKTs'of  nature 
rhts  and  the  du- 
the  former  are 

,/ell  our  part,  as 
tnity,we  ought 
Ms  are  ;  for,  on 
[r  duties,  rights 
jved  goes  before 
the  contrary  of 


this  is  taught  in  our  political  schools,  where  we  are 
told,  that  our  Jirat  duty  is  to  obey  the  laws  ;  and  it  is 
not  many  years  ago,  that  Horsley,  Bishop  of  Ro- 
chester told  us,  that  the  people  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  laws  but  to  obey  them.  The  truth  is,  how- 
ever, that  the  citizen's  first  duty  is  to  maintain  his 
rights,  as  it  is  the  purchaser's  first  duty  to  receive 
the  thing  for  which  he  has  contracted. 

336.  Qur  rights  in  society  are  numerous;  the 
right  of  "enjoying  Hie  and  property;  the  rigm  of 
exerting  our  physical  and  mental  powers  in  an  in- 
nocent manner ;  but^  the  great  right  of  all,  and  with- 
out which  there  is.  in  lact,  no  risrht^  is,  tn^  riprht.  nr  _ 
tafnnsr  apart  in  the  mafciwsf  of  the  laws  by  which  we 
are  governed,  'rhis  rig'^U?  t'^^mrififi  in  that  law  nf 
Nature  spoken  of'liEovej  it  sp'^jri^rfi  nut  ^f  ♦h^  v^x-'^ 
principle  oi  civil  society;  jor  what  compact. what ^ 
agreement,  what  common  assent,  can  pot;3iT>ly  bft~ 
imagined  by 


9iU4i«rii;)i&WiSni 


iEIhe 


of  nature,  all  the  free  enj^ympnt.  nf  thpir  hnHips  jij^d* 
their  minda^  in  of(\px  tn  Rii^j^-?^  Ih^r^^^lv^w  to  iilpfl, 

g,  in  the  making  of  which  they  *'^^^n\^  hq^» 
nothinsf  to  say,  and  which  should  be  en  ortodjapfin-. 
tnejiL without  tneir  assefttl  The  great"right,'there- 
{ore^i~evety  maw,  the"  right  of  rights,  is  the  right 
of  having  a  share  in  the  making  of  the  laws,  to 
which  the  good  of  the  whole  makes  it  his  duty  to 
submit. 

337.  With  regard  to  the  means  of  enabling  every 
man  to  enjoy  this  share,  they  have  been  different,  in 
different  countries,  and,  in  the  same  countries,  at 
diflferent  times.  Generally  it  has  been,  and  in  great 
communities  it  must  be,  by  the  r'hoosing  of  a  few  to 
speak  and  act  in  behalf  of  the  r  (my:  and,  as  there 
I  will  hardly  ever  be  perfect  unanimity  amongst  men 
j  assembled  for  any  purpose  whatever,  where  fact  and 
I  argument  are  to  decide  the  question,  the  decision  is 
left  to  the  majority^  the  compact  being  that  the  de- 
cision of  the  majority  shall  be  that  of  the  whole. 
iMnors  are  excluded  from  this  right,  because  the  law 
jconsiders  them  as  infants,  because  it  makes  the  pa** 

22 


-.1 


1 


11 


i! 


i  li 


-■*s^- 


254 


COBBETT'S  ADVICE 


[Letter 


«r     i 


m,wmMm' 


i-f 


^Bm'' 


m 

;';r»jf,t  it!| 


rent  answerable  for  civil  damages  committed  by 
them,  and  because  of  their  legal  incapacity  to  make 
any  compact.  Women  are  excluded  because  husbands 
are  answerable  in  law  for  their  wives,  as  to  their 
civil  damages,  and  because  the  very  nature  of  their 
sex  makes  the  exercise  of  this  right  incompatible 
with  the  harmony  and  happiness  of  society.  Men 
stained  with  indelible  crimes  are  excluded,  because 
they  have  forfeited  their  right  by  violating  ^he  laws, 
to  which  their  assent  has  been  given.  Insane  pet^- 
sons  are  excluded,  because  they  are  dead  in  the  eye 
of  the  law,  because  the  law  demands  no  duty  at  their 
hands,  because  they  cannot  violate  the  law,  because 
the  law  cannot  aSfect  them;  and,  therefore,  they 
Ought  to  have  no  hand  in  making  it.  ^ 
^  338.  But,  with  these  exceptions,  where  is  the, 
ground  whereon  to  maintain  that  any  man  ought  to 
'be  deprived  of  this  right,  which  he  derives  directly 
^from  the  law  of  Nature,  and  which  springs,  as  I  said 
'before,  out  of  the  same  source  with  civil  society  it, 
self?  Am  I  told,  that  property  ought  to  confer  this 
'right  ?  Property  sprang  from  labour,  and  not  labour 
from  property  J  so  that  if  there  were  to  be  a  distinc- 
tion here,  it  ought  to  give  the  preference  to  labour. 
All  men  are  equal  by  nature ;  nobody  denies  that 
they  all  ought  to  be  equal  in  the  eye  of  the  law  ;  but, 
how  are  they  to  be  thus  equal,  if  the  law  begin  by 
suffering  some  to  enjoy  this  right  and  refusing  the 
enjoyment  to  others  ?  It  is  the  duty  of  every  man 
to  defend  his  country  against  an  enemy,  a  duty  im- 
posed by  the  law  of  Nature  as  well  as  by  that  of  civil 
society,  and  without  the  recognition  of  this  duty, 
there  could  exist  no  independent  nation  and  no  civil 
fiociety.  Yet,  how  are  you  to  maintain  that  this  is 
the  duty  of  every  mun,  if  you  deny  to  some  men  the 
enjoyment  of  a  share  in  making  the  laws  ?  Upon 
what  principle  are  you  to  contend  for  equality  here, 
while  you  deny  its  existence  as  to  the  right  of  shar- 
ing in  the  making  of  the  laws  1  The  poor  man  has 
a  body  and  a  soul  as  well  as  the  rich  man;  like  the 
latter,  he  has  parents,  wife  and  children;  a  bullet  or 


^     [Letter 

)minitted  by 
tcity  to  make 
luse  husbands 
s,  as  to  their 
ature  of  their 
incompatible 
jociety.    Men 
luded,  because 
iting  ihe  laws, 
.     Insane  pe?'- 
ead  in  the  eye 
o  duty  at  their 
lc  law,  because 
herefore,  they 

where  is  the, 
/  man  ought  to 
ierives  directly 
prings,  as  I  said 
civil  society  it, 
it  to  confer  this 
,  and  not  labour 
to  be  a  distinc- 
rence  to  labour, 
dy  denies  that 
^the  law  ;  but, 
le  law  begin  by 
ind  refusing  the 
y  of  every  man 
my,  a  duty  im- 
3  by  that  of  civil 
)n  of  this  duty, 
ion  and  no  civil 
Ltain  that  this  is 
to  some  men  the 
e  laws?    Upon 
or  equality  here, 
herightofshar- 
lie  poor  man  has 
shman;  like  the 
irenj  a  bullet  or 


n.] 


TO  A  ClTlZEIf. 


955 


a  sword  is  as  deadly  to  him  as  to  the  rich  man ;  there 
are  hearts  to  ache  and  tears  to  flow  for  him  as  well 
as  for  the  squire  or  the  lord  or  the  loan-monger:  yet, 
notwithstanding  this  equality,  he  is  to  risk  all,  and, 
if  he  escape,  he  is  still  to  be  denied  an  equality  of 
rights !  If,  in  such  a  state  of  things,  the  artisan  or 
labourer,  when  called  out  to  fight  in  defence  of  his 
country,  were  to  answer:  "Why  should  I  risk  my 
"  life  ?  I  have  no  possession  but  my  labour  ;  no  ene- 
"  my  will  take  that  from  me ;  you,  the  rich,  possess 
"  all  the  land  and  all  its  products ;  you  make  what 
"  laws  you  please  without  my  participation  or  assent ; 
"  5'ou  punish  me  at  your  pleasure ;  you  say  that  my 
"  want  of  property  excludes  me  from  the  right  of 
"  having  a  share  in  the  making  of  the  laws ;  you  say 
"  that  the  property  that  I  have  in  my  labour  is  no^ 
"  thin^  worth  ;  on  what  ground,  then,  do  you  call 
"  on  me  to  risk  my  life  ?"  If,  in  such  a  case,  such 
<luestions  were  put,  the  answer  is  very  difficult  to  be 
imagined. 

339.  In  cases  of  civil  commotion  the  matter  comes 
Ptill  more  home  to  us.  On  what  ground  is  the  rich 
man  to  call  the  artisan  from  his  shop  or  the  labourer 
from  the  field  to  join  the  sheriff's  posse  or  the  mi- 
litia, if  he  refuse  to  the  labourer  and  artisan  the  right 
of  sliaring  in  the  making  of  the  laws  ?  Why  are 
they  to  risk  their  lives  here  ?  To  uphold  the  laws, 
and  to  protect  property.  What !  laws,  in  the  mak- 
ing of,  or  assenting  to,  which  they  have  been  allow- 
ed to  have  no  share  ?  Prrperty,  of  which  they  are 
said  to  possess  none  ?  What !  compel  men  to  come 
forth  and  risk  their  lives  for  the  protection  of  proper- 
ty;  and  then,  in  the  same  breath,  tell  them,  that  thry 
are  not  allowed  to  share  in  the  making  of  the  laws, 
because,  and  ONLY  BECAUSE,  thq/  have  r?o  pro- 
perty !  Not  because  they  have  committed  any  crime ; 
not  because  they  are  idle  or  profligate;  not  because 
they  are  vicious  in  any  way ;  but  solely  because  they 
have  iw  property  ;  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  compel 
them  to  come  forth  and  risk  their  lives  for  the  pro- 
'iection  f)f  property  f 


'•! 


If 


f 


,.  .  .    1, 


I '  Si 


r3.'^'  V 


* 


* 


I  ■ ': 


'■  i 


v'         i'  I  ■  ■ 

!  i,  ;!})■■ ' 


i, 


lir'  „ 


i'\'.; 


IS  ,., 


■I 


ii; 


256 


COEBETr's  ADVICE 


[Letter 


340.  But,  the  paupers?  Ought  thep  to  share  in  the 
making  of  the  laws  ?  And  why  not  ?  What  is  a 
pauper  ;  what  is  one  of  the  men  to  whom  this  de- 
grading appellation  is  applied  7  A  xei^y  poor  man ; 
a  man  who  is,  from  some  cause  or  other,  unable  to 
supply  himBelf  with  food  and  raiment  without  aid 
from  the  parish-rates.  And,  is  that  circumstance 
alone  to  deprive  him  of  his  right,  a  right  of  which 
he  stands  more  in  need  than  any  other  man  ?  Per- 
haps he  has,  for  many  years  of  his  life,  contributed 
directly  to  those  rates ;  and  ten  thousand  to  one  lie 
has,  by  his  labour,  contributed  to  them  indirectly. 
The  aid  which,  under  such  circumstances,  he  receives, 
is  his  right  j  he  receives  it  not  as  an  alms :  he  is  no 
mendicant ;  he  begs  not ;  he  comes  to  receive  that 
which  the  law  of  the  country  awards  him  in  lieu  of 
the  larffer  portion  assigned  him  by  the  law  of  Na- 
ture, Pray  mark  that,  and  let  it  be  deeply  engraven 
on  your  memory.  The  audacious  and  merciless 
Malthus  (a  parson  of  the  church  establishment) 
recommended,  some  years  ago,  the  passing  of  a  law 
to  put  an  end  to  the  giving  of  parish  relief  though 
he  recommended  no  law  to  put  an  end  to  the  enor- 
mous taxes  paid  by  poor  people.  In  his  book  he  said, 
that  the  poor  should  be  left  to  the  law  ofNature, 
which,  in  case  of  their  having  nothing  to  buy  food 
with,  doomed  them  to  starve.  They  would  ask  no- 
thing better  than  to  be  left  to  the  law  of  Nature  ;  that 
law  which  knows  nothing  about  buying  food  or  any 
thing  else ;  that  law  which  bids  the  hungry  and  the  na- 
ked take  food  and  raiment  wherever  they  find  it  best 
and  nearest  at  hand ;  that  law  which  awards  all  pos- 
sessions to  the  strongest;  that  law  the  operations  of 
which  would  clear  out  the  London  meat-markets 
and  the  drapers'  and  jewellers'  shops  in  about  half 
an  hour ;  to  this  law  the  parson  wished  the  parlia- 
ment to  leave  the  poorest  of  the  working  people; 
but,  if  the  parliament  had  done  it,  it  would  have  been 
quickly  seen,  that  this  law  was  far  from  "  dooming 
them  to  be  starved." 

34L  Trusting  that  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  ex- 


[Letter 

3  share  in  the 
?    What  is  a 
i^hom  thi8  de- 
ry  poor  man  •, 
tier,  unable  to 
it  without  aid 
circumstance 
ight  of  which 
r  man  ?    Per- 
e,  contributed 
jand  to  one  lie 
lem  indirectly. 
es,  he  receives, 
alms :  he  is  no 
;o  receive  that 
Jiim  in  lieu  oi 
the  lawofNa- 
eeply  engraven 
and  merciless 
establishment) 
assing  of  a  law 
I  relief,  though 
nd  to  the  enor- 
lis  book  he  said, 
i  law  of  Nature^ 
ing  to  buy  food 
T  would  ask  no- 
of  Nature;  that 
ing  food  or  any 
ngryandthena- 
they  find  it  best 
I  awards  all  pos- 
Lhe  operations  of 
n  meat-markets^ 
ips  in  about  half 
shed  theparlia- 
<rorking  people; 
would  nave  been 
from  "dooming 

ary  for  me  to  ex- 


VI.1 


TO   A  CITIZEN. 


257 


press  a  hope,  that  barbarous  thoughts  like  those  of 
Malthus  and  his  tribe  will  never  be  entertained  by 
any  young  man  who  has  read  the  previous  Numbers 
of  this  work,  let  me  return  to  my  very,  very  poor 
i?ian,  and  ask,  whether  it  be  consistent  with  justice, 
with  humanity,  with  reason,  to  deprive  a  man  of  the 
most  precious  of  his  political  rights,  because,  and 
only  because,  he  has  been,  in  a  pecuniary  way,  sin- 
gularly  unfortunate?     The  Scripture  says,  "De- 
spise not  the  poor,  because  he  is  poor ;"  that  is  to 
say,  despise  him  not  on  account  of  his  poverty.  Why, 
then,  deprive  him  of  his  right ;  why  put  him  out  of 
the  pale  of  the  ,law,1on  account  of  his  poverty? 
There  are  some  men,  to  be  sure,  who  are  reduced  to 
poverty  by  their  vices,  by  idleness,  by  gaming,  by 
drinking,  by  squandering;  but,  the  far  greater  part 
by  bodily  ailments,  by  misfortunes  to  the  effects  of 
which  all  men  may,  without  any  fault,  and  even 
without  any  folly,  be  exposed:  and,  is  there  a  man 
on  earth  so  cruelly  unjust  as  to  wish  to  add  to  the 
sufferings  of  such  persons  by  stripping  them  of  their 
political  rights  1    How  many  thousands  of  indus- 
trious and  virtuous  men  have,  within  these  few  years, 
been  brought  down  from  a  state  of  competence  to 
that  of  pauperism !  And,  is  it  just  to  strip  such  men 
of  their  rights,  merely  because  they  are  thus  brought 
down  ?  When  I  was  at  Ely,  last  spring,  there  were, 
in  that  neighbourhood,  three  paupers  cracking  stones 
on  the  roads,  who  had  all  three  been,  not  only  rate- 
payers, but  overseers  of  the  poor ,  within  seven  years 
of  the  day  when  I  was  there.    Is  there  any  man  so 
barbarous  as  to  say,  that  these  men  ought,  merely 
on  account  of  their  misfortunes,  to  be  deprived  of 
their  political  rights  ?    Their  right  to  receive  relief 
is  as  perfect  as  any  right  of  property ;  and,  would 
you,  merely  because  they  claim  this  right,  strip 
theni  of  another  right  ?    To  say  no  more  of  the  in- 
justice and  the  cruelty,  is  there  reason,  is  there  com- 
mon sense  in  this  ?  What !  if  a  farmer  or  tradesman 
be,  by  flood  or  by  fire,  so  totally  ruined  as  to  be 
compelled,  surrounded  by  his  family,  to  resort  tp 

2'r 


w 


\ 

.   !  1 


'i^ 


\4 


258 


COBBETT'9   ADVICE 


[Letter 


iU 


Si  M 


'i>!i 


m 


\\\> 


Lte  li: 


k'il 


i: 


rfe 


!iR"' 


>>- 


■i- 


the  parish-bookj  would  you  break  the  last  heart- 
string  of  such  a  man  by  making  him  feel  the  degra- 
ding loss  of  his  political  rights? 

342.  Here,  young  man  of  sense  and  of  spirit ; 
Tiere  is  the  point  on  which  you  are  to  take  your  stand. 
There  are  always  men  enough  to  plead  the  cause  of 
the  rich  j  enough  and  enough  to  echo  the  woes  of 
the  fallen  great;  but,  be  it  your  part  to  show  com- 
passion for  those  who  labour,  and  to  maintain  tlieir 
rights.  Poverty  is  not  a  crime,  and,  though  it  some- 
times arises  from  faults,  it  is  not,  even  in  that  case, 
to  be  visited  by  punishment  beyond  that  which  it 
brings  with  itself.  Remember,  that  poverty  is  de- 
creed by  the  very  nature  of  man.  The  Scripture 
says,  that  "  the  poor  shall  never  cease  from  out  of 
the  land ;"  that  is  to  say,  that  there  shall  always  be 
some  very  poor  people.  This  is  inevitable  from  the 
very  nature  of  things.  It  is  necessary  to  the  exist- 
ence of  mankind,  that  a  very  large  portion  of  every 
people  should  hve  by  manual  labour ;  and,  as  such 
labour  is  pain,  more  or  less,  and  as  no  living  crea- 
ture likes  pain,  it  must  be,  that  the  far  greater  part 
of  labouring  people  will  endure  only  just  as  much 
of  this  pain  as  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  supply 
of  their  daily  wants.  Experience  says  that  this  has 
always  been,  and  reason  and  nature  tell  us,  that  this 
must  always  be.  Therefore,  when  ailments,  when 
losses,  when  untoward  circumstances  of  any  sort, 
stop  or  diminish  the  daily  supply,  want  comes :  and 
every  just  government  will  provide,  from  the  gene- 
ral stock,  the  means  to  satisfy  this  want. 

343.  Nor  is  the  deepest  poverty  without  its  useful 
^ects  in  society.  To  the  practice  of  the  virtues  of 
abstinence,  sobriety,  care,  frugality,  industry,  and 
even  honesty  and  amiable  manners  and  acquirement 
of  talent,  the  two  great  motives  are,  to  get  upwards 
in  riches  or  fame,  and  to  avoid  going  dSumwards  to 
poverty,  the  last  of  which  is  the  most  powerful  oi 
the  two.  It  is,  [therefore,  not  with  contempt,  but 
with  compassion,  that  we  should  look  on  tnose, 
whose  state  is  one  of  the  decrees  of  nature  from 


tf* 


[Letter 

last  heart- 
el  the  degra- 

id  of  spirit ; 
e  your  stand, 
the  cause  of 
>  the  woes  of 
[)  show  com- 
laintain  tlieir 
Dugh  it  some- 
in  that  case, 
that  which  it 
joverty  is  de- 
rhe  Scripture 
e  from  out  of 
tiall  always  be 
[table  from  the 
:y  to  the  exist- 
)rtion  of  every 
• ;  and,  as  such 
no  living  crea- 
:ar  greater  part 
^  just  as  much 
y  to  the  supply 
ys  that  this  has 
ell  us,  that  this 
ailments,  when 
es  of  any  sort, 
xnt  comes :  and 
from  the  gene- 
ant. 

ithout  its  useful 
)f  the  virtues  of 
,  industry,  and 
md  acquirement 
to  get  upwards 
g'  d(yumward8  to 
ost  powerful  01 
I  contempt,  but 
look  on  those, 
of  nature  from 


VI.] 


TO  A  CITIZEN. 


259 


whose  sad  example  we  profit,  and  to  whom.  In  re- 
turn, we  ought  to  make  compensation  by  every  in- 
dulgent and  kind  act  in  our  power,  and  particularly 
by  a  defence  of  their  rights.  To  those  who  labour, 
we,  who  labour  not  with  our  hands,  owe  all  that  we 
eat,  drink  and  wear ;  all  that  shades  us  by  day  and 
that  shelters  us  by  night ;  all  the  means  of  enjoying 
health  and  pleasure ;  and,  therefore,  if  we  possess 
talent  for  the  task,  we  are  ungrateful  or  cowardly,  or 
both,  if  we  omit  any  effort  within  our  power  to  pre- 
vent them  from  being  slaves  ;  and,  disguise  the  mat- 
ter how  we  may,  a  slave,  a  real  slave,  every  man  is, 
who  has  no  share  in  making  the  laws  which  he  is 
compelled  to  obey. 

344.  What  is  a  slave  7  For,  let  us  not  be  amused 
by  a  name  ;  but  look  well  into  the  matter.  A  slave 
is,  in  the  first  place,  a  man  who  has  no  property  ; 
and  property  means  something  that  he  has,  and  that 
nobody  can  take  from  him  without  his  leave,  or 
consent.  Whatever  man,  no  matter  what  he  may 
call  himself  or  any  body  else  may  call  him,  can  have 
his  money  or  his  goods  taken  from  him  hy  farce,  by 
virtue  of  an  order,  or  ordinance,  or  law,  which  he 
has  had  no  hand  in  making,  and  to  which  he  has  not 
given  his  assent,  has  wo  pr(yperty,  and  is  merely  a 
depositary  of  the  goods  of  his  master.  A  slave  has 
no  property  in  his  labour ;  and  any  man  who  is 
compelled  to  give  up  the  fruit  of  his  labour  to  ano- 
ther, at  the  arbitrary  will  of  that  other,  has  no  pro- 
perty in  his  labour,  and  is,  therefore,  a  slave,  whether 
the  fruit  of  his  labour  be  taken  from  him  directly  or 
indirectly.  If  it  be  said,  that  he  gives  up  this  fruit 
of  his  labour  by  his  own  will,  and  that  it  is  not  for- 
ced from  him,  I  answer.  To  be  sure  he  may  avoid 
eating  and  drinking  and  may  go  naked ;  but,  then  he 
must  die  ;  and  on  this  condition,  and  this  condition 
only,  can  he  refuse  to  give  up  the  fruit  of  his  labour ; 
"Die,  wretch,  or  surrender  as  much  of  your  income, 
or  the  fruit  of  your  labour  as  your  masters  choose 
to  take."    This  is,  in  fact,  the  language  of  the  rulers 


il:\, 


M 


260 


COBBETT'8  advicb 


[Letter 


}  I'l  <'-    -ik'  •"■■4.  Hi''' 


i       "^.f"^- 


to  every  man  who  is  refused  to  have  a  share  in  the 
making  of  the  laws  to  which  he  ia  forced  to  submit. 
345.  But,  some  one  may  say,  slaves  arc  private 
property,  and  may  be  bought  and  sold,  out  and  out, 
like  cattle.  And,  what  is  it  to  the  slave,  whether  he 
be  property  of  one  or  of  many  ;  or,  what  matters  it 
to  him,  whether  he  pass  from  master  to  master  by  a 
sale  for  an  indefinite  term,  or  be  let  to  hire  by  the 
year,  month,  or  week  ?  It  is,  in  no  case  the  flesh  and 
blood  and  bones  that  are  sold,  but  the  labour  ;  and, 
if  you  actually  sell  the  labour  of  man,  is  not  that 
man  a  slave,  though  you  sell  it  for  only  a  short  time 
at  once  ?  And,  as  to  the  principle,  so  ostentatiously 
displayed  in  the  case  of  the  black  slave-trade,  that 
**  man  ought  not  to  have  a  property  in  man,^^  it  is 
€ven  an  advantage  to  the  slave  to  be  private  proper- 
ty, because  the  owner  has  then  a  clear  and  powerful 
interest  in  the  preservation  of  his  life,  health  and 
strength,  and  will,  therefore,  furnish  him  amply  with 
the  food  and  raiment  necessary  for  these  ends.  Eve- 
ry one  knows,  that  public  property  is  never  so  well 
taken  care  of  as  private  property ;  and  this,  too,  on 
the  maxim,  that  "  that  which  is  every  body's  business 
is  nobody's  business."  Every  one  knows  that  a 
rented  farm  is  not  so  well  kept  in  heart,  as  a  farm  in 
the  hands  of  the  owner.  And,  as  to  punishments  and 
restraints,  what  difference  is  there,  whether  these 
be  inflicted  and  imposed  by  a  private  owner,  or  his 
overseer,  or  by  the  agents  and  overseers  of  a  body  of 
proprietors  ?  In  short,  if  you  can  cause  a  man  to  be 
imprisoned  or  whipped  if  he  do  not  work  enough  to 
please  you  ;  if  you  can  sell  him  by  auction  for  a  time 
limited ;  if  you  can  forcibly  separate  him  from  his 
wife  to  prevent  their  having  children ;  if  you  can 
shut  him  up  in  his  dwelling  place  when  you  please, 
and  for  as  long  a  time  as  you  please ;  if  you  can 
force  him  to  draw  a  cart  or  wagon  like  a  beast  of  | 
draught;  if  you  can,  when  the  humour  seizes  you, 
and  at  the  suggestion  of  your  mere  fears,  or  whim, 
cause  him  to  be  shut  up  in  a  dungeon  during  you: 


.«.' 


,  [Letter 

^  Bhare  in  the 
:ed  to  submit. 
3  arc  pritate 
[,  out  and  out, 
e,  whether  he 
^hat  matters  it 
to  master  by  a 
to  hire  by  the 
le  the  flesh  and 
e  labour  ;  and, 
m,  is  not  that 
ly  a  short  time 
\  ostentatiously 
ilave-trade,  that 
nn  vnan^''^  it  is 
private  proper- 
ar  and  powerful 
life,  health  and 
him  amply  with 
hese  ends.  Eve- 
is  never  so  well 
knd  this,  too,  on 
body's  business 
;  knows  that  a 
!art,  as  a  farm  in 
punishments  and 
;,  whether  these 
ite  owner,  or  his 
seers  of  a  body  of 
ause  a  man  to  be 
work  enough  to 
motion  for  a  time 
ate  him  from  his 
iren  -,  if  you  can 
when  you  please, 
lease ;  if  you  can 
)n  like  a  beast  of 
imour  seizes  you, 
■6  fears,  or  whim, 
jeon  during  yo^i: 


VI.] 


TO  A  CITIZT2N. 


261 


pleasure :  if  you  can,  at  your  pleasure,  do  these 
things  to  him,  is  it  not  to  be  impudently  hypocritical 
to  affect  to  call  him  a  free-man  7  But,  after  all,  these 
may  all  be  wanting,  and  yet  the  man  be  a  slave,  if 
he  be  allowed  to  have  no  property  ;  anJ,  as  I  have 
shown,  no  property  he  can  nave,  not  even  in  that 
labour,  which  is  not  only  property,  but  the  basis  of 
all  other  property,  unless  he  have  a  share  in  making' 
the  laws  to  which  he  is  compelled  to  submit. 

346.  It  is  said,  that  he  may  have  this  share  virtu- 
ally though  not  in  form  and  name  ;  for  that  his  em- 
ployers may  have  such  share,  and  they  will,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  act  for  him.  This  doctrine,  push- 
ed home,  would  make  the  chief  of  the  nation  the 
sole  maker  of  the  laws ;  for,  if  the  rich  can  thus  act 
for  the  poor,  why  should  not  the  chief  act  for  the 
rich  ?  This  matter  is  very  completely  explained  by 
the  practice  in  the  United  States  of  America. 
There  the  maxim  is,  that  every  free  man,  with  the 
exception  of  men  stained  with  crime  and  men  in- 
sane, has  a  right  to  have  a  voice  in  choosing  those 
who  make  the  laws.  The  number  of  Representa- 
tives sent  to  the  Congress  is,  in  each  State,  propor- 
tioned to  the  number  of /rjj  people.  But,  as  there 
are  slaves  in  so7ne  of  the  States,  these  States  have  a 
certain  portion  of  additional  numbers  on  account  of 
those  slaves.  Thus  the  slaves  are  represented  by 
their  owners  ;  and  this  is  real,  practical,  open  and 
undisguised  virtual  representation  !  No  doubt  that 
white  men  may  be  represented  in  the  same  way ;  for 
the  colour  of  the  skin  is  nothing ;  but  let  them  be 
called  slaves,  then ;  let  it  not  be  pretended  that  they 
are  free  men ;  let  not  the  word  liberty  be  polluted 
by  being  applied  to  their  state :  let  it  be  openly  and 
honestly  avowed,  as  in  America,  that  they  are 
slaves;  and  then  will  come  the  question  whether 
men  ought  to  exist  in  such  a  state,  or  whether  they 
ought  to  do  every  thing  in  their  power  to  rescue 
themselves  from  it. 

347.  If  the  right  to  have  a  share  in  making  the 


■« 


M' 


262 


oobbett's  advice 


[Letter 


*'■  i 


ni 


I  If 


.•■ii( 


ill.  !. 


Sfl 


fi ' 


■ju,;-;, . 


t 


laws  were  merely  a  feather ;  if  it  were  a  fanciful 
thing ;  if  it  were  only  a  speculative  theory ;  if  it 
were  but  an  abstract  principle  j  on  any  of  these 
suppositions,  it  might  be  considered  as  of  little  im- 
portance. But  it  is  none  of  these ;  it  is  a  practical 
matter ;  the  want  of  it  not  only  is,  but  must  of  ne- 
cessity be,  felt  by  every  man  who  lives  under  that 
want.  If  it  were  proposed  to  the  shopkeepers  in  a 
town,  that  a  rich  man  or  two,  living  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, should  have  power  to  send,  whenever  Uiey 
pleased,  and  take  away  as  much  as  they  pleased  of 
the  money  of  the  shopkeepers,  and  apply  it  to  what 
uses  they  please ;  what  an  outcry  the  shopkeepers 
would  make !  And  yet,  what  would  this  be  more 
than  taxes  imposed  on  those  who  have  no  voice  in 
clioosing  the  persons  who  impose  them  7  Who  lets 
another  man  put  his  hand  into  his  purse  wlien  he 
pleases  ?  Who,  that  has  the  power  to  help  himself, 
surrenders  his  goods  or  his  money  to  the  will  of 
another  ?  Has  it  not  always  been,  and  must  it  not 
always  be,  true,  that,  if  your  property  be  at  the  ab- 
solute disposal  of  others,  your  ruin  is  certain?  And 
if  this  be,  of  necessity,  the  case  amongst  individuals 
and  parts  of  the  community,  it  must  be  the  cnsc 
with  regard  to  the  whole  community. 

348.  Aye,  and  experience  shows  us  that  it  always 
has  been  the  case.  The  natural  and  inevitable  con- 
sequences of  a  want  of  this  right  in  the  people  have,  in 
all  countries,  been  <aa7es  pressing  the  industrious  and 
laborious  to  the  earth ;  severe  laws  and  standing 
armies  to  compel  the  people  to  submit  to  those  tax- 
es ;  wealth,  luxury,  and  splendour,  amongst  those 
who  make  the  laws  and  receive  the  taxes  ;  poverty, 
misery,  immorality  and  crime,  amongst  those  who 
bear  the  burdens ;  and  at  last  commotion,  revolt,  re- 
venge, and  rivers  of  blood.  Such  have  always  been, 
and  such  must  always  be,  the  consequences  of  a 
want  of  this  right  of  all  men  to  share  in  the  ma- 
king of  the  laws,  a  right,  as  I  have  before  shown, 
derived  Immediately  from  the  law  of  Nature,  spring- 


# 


[Letter    I     VI.J 


TO  A  CITIZ£N. 


263 


Te  a  fanciful 
theory ;  if  it 
any  of  these 
3  of  little  im- 
;  is  a  practical 
it  must  of  ne- 
^es  under  that 
jpkeepers  m  a 
in  the  neigh- 
whenever  they 
hey  pleased  of 
)ply  it  to  what 
3  shopkeepers 

this  be  more 
ive  no  voice  in 
m?  Who  lets 
)urse  when  he 
0  help  himself, 

to  the  will  of 
md  must  it  not 
y  be  at  the  ab- 
3  certain  ?  And 
igst  individuals 
st  be  the  cpsc 

s  that  it  always 
inevitable  con- 
3peoplehave,  in 
industrious  and 
?  and  standing 
[lit  to  those  tax- 
amongst  those 
taxes ;  poverty, 
ngst  those  who 
ation,  revolt,  ve- 
ve  always  been, 
isequences  of  a 
lare  in  the  ma- 
before  shown, 
•  Nature,  spring- 


ing  up  out  of  the  same  source  with  civil  society,  and 
cherished  in  the  heart  of  man  by  reason  and  by  ex- 
perience. 

349.  Well,  then^  this  right  being  that,  without  the 
enjoyment  of  which  there  is,  in  reality,  no  right  at 
all,  how  manifestly  is  it  the  first  duty  of  every  man 
to  do  all  in  his  power  to  maintain  this  right  where 
it  exists,  and  to  restore  it  where  it  has  been  lost  ? 
For  observe,  it  must  at  one  time,  have  existed  in 
every  civil  community,  it  being  impossible  that  it 
could  ever  be  excluded  by  any  social  compact ;  ab- 
solutely impossible,  because  it  is  contrary  to  the  law 
of  self-preservation  to  believe,  that  men  would  agree 
to  give  up  the  rights  of  nature  without  stipulating 
for  some  benefit.  Before  we  can  affect  to  believe  that 
this  right  was  not  reserved,  in  such  compact,  as  com- 
pletely as  the  right  to  live  was  reserved,  we  must  af- 
fect to  believe,  that  millions  of  men,  under  no  con- 
trol but  that  of  their  own  passions  and  desires, 
and  having  all  the  earth  and  its  products  at  the  com- 
mand of  their  strength  and  skill,  consented  to  be 
for  ever,  they  and  their  posterity,  the  slaves  of  a 
few. 

350.  We  cannot  believe  this,  and  therefore,  with- 
out going  back  into  history  and  precedents^  we  must 
believe,  that,  in  whatever  civil  community  this  right 
does  not  exist,  it  has  been  lost,  or  rather,  unjustly 
taken  way.  And  then,  having  seen  the  terrible  evils 
which  always  have  arisen,  and  always  must  arise, 
from  the  want  of  it ;  being  convinced  that,  where 
lost  or  taken  away  by  force  or  fraud,  it  is  our  very 
first  duty  to  do  all  in  our  power  to  restore  it,  the 
next  consideration  is,  how  one  ought  to  act  in  the 
discharge  of  this  most  sacred  duty ;  for  sacred  it  is 
even  as  the  duties  of  husband  and  father.  For,  be- 
sides the  baseness  of  the  thought  of  quietly  submit- 
ting to  be  a  sloYe  ojieself,  we  have  here,  besides  our 
duty  to  the  community,  a  duty  to  perform  towards 
our  children  and  our  children's  chil(5ren.  We  all 
acknowledge  that  it  is  our  boundcu  duty  to  provide, 


./v 


264 


cobbett's  advicb 


[Letter 


;^'  I ' 


mM 


'■■Ml 


as  far  as  our  power  will  go,  for  the  competence,  the 
health,  and  the  ^ood  character  of  our  children ;  but, 
is  this  duty  superior  to  that  of  which  I  am  now  speak- 
ing ?  What  is  competence,  what  is  health,  if  the 
possessor  be  a  slave,  and  hold  his  possessions  at  the 
will  of  another,  or  others ;  as  he  must  do  if  desti- 
tute of  the  right  to  a  share  in  the  making  of  the 
laws  ?  What  is  competence,  what  is  health,  if  both 
can,  at  any  moment,  be  snatched  away  by  the  grasp 
or  the  dungeon  of  a  master ;  and  his  master  he  is 
who  makes  the  laws  without  his  participation  or  as- 
sent ?  And,  as  to  character,  as  Xo fair  fame,  when  the 
white  slave  puts  forward  pretensions  to  those,  let 
him  no  longer  affect  to  coi-;miserate  the  state  of  his 
sleek  and  fat  brethren  in  Barbadoes  and  Jamaica ; 
let  him  hasten  to  mix  the  hair  with  the  wool,  to 
blend  the  white  with  the  black,  and  to  lose  the 
memory  of  his  origin  amidst  a  dingy  generation. 

351.  Such,  then,  being  the  nature  of  the  duty, 
horw  are  we  to  go  to  work  in  the  performance  of  it, 
and  what  are  our  means  7  With  regard  to  these,  so 
various  are  the  circumstances,  so  endless  the  differ- 
ences in  the  states  of  society,  and  so  many  are  the 
cases  when  it  would  be  madness  to  attempt  that 
which  it  would  be  prudence  to  attempt  in  others, 
that  no  general  rule  can  be  given  beyond  this ;  that, 
the  right  and  the  duty  being  clear  to  our  minds,  the 
means  that  are  surest  and  swiftest  are  the  best.  In 
every  such  case,  however,  the  great  and  predominant 
desire  ought  to  be  not  to  employ  any  means  beyond 
those  of  reason  and  persuasion,  as  long  as  the  employ- 
ment of  these  afford  a  ground  for  rational  expec*f  tion 
of  success.  Men  are,  in  such  a  case,  labouring,  not  for 
the  present  davonly,  but  forages  to  come ;  and  there- 
fore they  should  not  slacken  in  their  exertions,  because 
the  grave  may  close  upon  them  before  the  day  of 
final  triumph  arrive.  Amongst  the  virtues  of  the 
good  Citizen  are  those  of  fortitude  and  patience ; 
and,  when  he  has  to  carry  on  his  struggle  against 
corruptions  deep  and  widely-rooted,  he  is  not  to 


I  if 


VI.] 


TO  A  CITIZEN. 


205 


expect  the  baleful  tree  to  come  down  at  a  single 
blow;  he  must  patiently  remove  the  earth  that 
props  and  feeds  it,  and  sever  the  accursed  roots  one 
by  one. 

352.  Impatience  here  is  a  very  bad  sign.  I  do  not 
like  your  patriots,  who,  because  the  tree  does  not 
give  way  at  once,  fall  to  blaming  all  about  them, 
accuse  their  feilow-suiferers  of  cowardice,  because 
they  do  not  do  that  which  they  themselves  dare 
not  think  of  doing.  Such  conduct  argues  choffrin 
and  disappointment ;  and  these  argue  a  selfish  feeling  t 
they  argue,  that*  there  has  been  more  of  private  am- 
bition and  gain  at  work  than  o^  public  good.  Such 
blamers,  such  general  accusers,  are  always  to  be  sus- 
pected. What  does  the  real  patriot  want  more  than 
to  feel  conscious  that  he  has  done  his  duty  towards 
his  country ;  and  that,  if  life  should  not  allow  him 
time  to  see  his  endeavours  crowned  with  success, 
his  children  will  see  it  ?  The  impatient  patriots  are 
like  the  young  men  (mentioned  in  the  beautiful  fa- 
ble of  La  Fontaine)  who  ridiculed  the  man  of 
fourscore,  who  was  planting  an  avenue  of  very  small 
trees,  which,  they  told  him  that  he  never  could  ex- 
pect to  see  as  high  as  his  head.  "  Well,"  said  he, 
"  and,  what  of  that  ?  If  their  shade  afford  me  no 
"pleasure,  it  may  afford  pleasure  to  my  children, 
"  and  even  to  you ;  and,  therefore,  the  planting  of 
*'  them  gives  me  pleasure." 

353.  It  is  the  want  of  the  noble  disinterestedness, 
so  beautifully  expressed  in  this  fable,  that  pnv^uces 
the  impatient  patriots.  They  wish  very  well  to 
their  country,  because  they  want  some  of  the  good 
for  themselves.  Very  natural  that  all  men  should 
wish  to  see  the  good  arrive,  and  wish  to  share  in  it 
too ;  but,  we  must  look  on  the  dark  side  of  nature 
to  find  the  disposition  to  cast  blame  on  the  whole 
community  because  our  wishes  are  not  instantly  ac- 
complished, and  especially  to  cast  blame  on  others 
for  not  doing  that  which  we  ourselves  dare  not  at- 
tempt.   There  is,  however,  a  sort  of  patriot  a  great 

23 


^. 


w-  \  ] 


266 


OOBBBTT^S  ADTIOB 


[Letter 


1% 

11      ■(   ■!    . 

-'   Hi 

.'i 

deal  worse  than  this  j  he}  who  harlng  failed  himself, 
would  see  his  country  ensUv*.  3  tor  ever,  rather  than 
see  its  deliverance  achieved  ir/  oUiet^  His  failure 
has,  perhaps,  arisen  solely  from  his  want  of  talent, 
or  discretion  :  yet  his  selfish  lieart  would  wish  his 
country  sunk  in  everlasting  degradation,  lest  his 
inefficiency  for  the  task  should  be  established  by  the 
success  of  others.  A  very  hateful  character,  certain- 
ly, but,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  by  no  means  rare.  Envy^ 
always  associated  with  meanness  of  soul,  always 
detestable,  is  never  so  detestable  as  when  it  shows 
itself  here. 

354.  Be  it  your  care,  my  young  friend  (and  I  ten- 
der you  this,  as  my  parting  advice,)  if  you  find  this 
base  and  baleful  passion,  which  the  poet  calls  "  the 
eldest  born  of  hell ;"  if  you  find  it  creeping  into 
your  heart,  be  it  your  care  to  banish  it  at  once  and 
for  ever ;  for,  if  once  it  nestle  there,  farewell  to  all 
the  good  which  nature  has  enabled  you  to  do,  and  to 
your  peace  into  the  bargain.  It  has  pleased  God  to 
make  an  unequal  distribution  of  talent,  of  industry, 
of  perseverance,  of  a  capacity  to  labour,  of  all  the 
qualities  that  give  men  distinction.  We  have  not 
been  our  own  makers :  it  is  no  fault  in  you  that  na- 
ture has  placed  him  above  you,  and  surely,  it  is  no 
fault  in  him ;  and  would  you  puniith  him  on  ac- 
count, and  only  on  account,  of  his  pre-eminence ! 
If  you  have  read  this  book  you  will  startle  with 
horror  at  the  thought :  you  will,  as  to  public  mat- 
ters, act  with  zeal  and  with  good  humour,  though  the 
place  you  occupy  be  far  removed  from  the  first ;  you 
will  support  with  the  best  of  your  abilities  others, 
who,  from  whatever  circumstance,  may  happen  to 
take  the  lead ;  you  will  not  suffer  even  the  con- 
sciousness and  the  certainty  of  your  own  superior 
talents  to  urge  you  to  do  any  thing  which  might  by 
possibility  be  injurious  to  your  country's  cause; 
you  will  be  forbearing  under  the  aggressions  of  ig- 
norance, conceit,  arrogance,  and  even  the  blackest  of 
ingratitude  superadded,  if  by  resenting  these  you 


[Letter 

failed  himself, 
er,  rather  than 
His  failure 
(rant  of  talent, 
vould  wish  his 
eition,  lest  his 
iblished  by  the 
racter,  certain- 
s  rare.  Envy^ 
r  soul,  always 
when  it  shows 

end  (and  I  ten- 
f  you  find  this 
E)oet  calls  "  the 

creeping  into 
i  it  at  once  and 
farewell  to  all 
3u  to  do,  and  to 
pleased  God  to 
nt,  of  industry, 
hour,  of  all  the 

We  have  not 
in  you  that  na< 
surely,  it  is  no 
ah  him  on  ac- 
pre-eminence ! 
ill  startle  with 
}  to  public  mat- 
lour,  though  the 
ai  the  first ;  you 
abilities  others, 
may  happen  to 
even  the  con- 
ir  own  superior 
vhich  might  by 
)untry's  cause; 
gressions  of  ig- 
n  the  blackest  of 
Lting  these  you 


VI.] 


TO  A  CITIZBN. 


267 


endanger  the  general  good ;  and,  aboYe  all  things, 
you  will  have  the  justice  to  bear  in  mind,  that  that 
country  which  gave  you  birth,  is,  to  the  last  hour  of 
your  capability  ,entitled  to  your  exertions  in  her  behalf, 
and  that  you  ought  not,  by  acts  of  commission  or  of 
omission,  to  visit  upon  her  the  wrongs  which  may 
have  been  inflicted  on  you  by  the  envy  and  malice 
of  individuals.  Love  of  one's  native  soil  is  a  feeling 
which  nature  has  implanted  in  the  human  breast, 
and  'that  has  always  been  peculiarl)r  strong  in  the 
breasts  of  Englishmen.  God  has  given  us  a  coun- 
try of  which  to  be  i)roud,  and  that  freedom,  great- 
ness and  renown,  which  were  handed  down  to  us  by 
our  wise  and  brave  forefathers,  bid  us  perish  to  the 
last  man,  rather  than  suffer  the  land  of  their  graves 
to  become  a  land  of  slavery,  impotence  and  disho- 
nour. 

355.  In  the  words  with  which  I  concluded  my  En- 
glish Grammar,  which  I  addressed  to  my  son  James, 
I  conclude  my  advice  to  you.  "  With  English  and 
"  French  on  your  tongue  and  in  your  pen,  you  have 
"  a  resource,  not  only  greatly  valuable  in  itself,  but 
"  a  resource  that  you  can  be  deprived  of  by  none*of 
"  those  changes  and  chances  which  deprive  men  of 
"  pecuniary  possessions,  and  which,  in  some  cases, 
"  make  the  purse-proud  man  of  yesterday  a  crawling 
"  sycophant  to-day.  Health,  without  which  life  is 
"  not  worth  having,  you  will  hardly  fail  to  secure 
"by  early  rising,  exercise,  sobriety, and abstemious- 
*'  ness  as  to  food.  Happiness,  or  misery,  is  in  the 
"  mind.  It  is  the  mind  that  lives ;  and  the  length 
"  of  life  ought  to  be  measured  by  the  number  and 
"  importance  of  our  ideas,  and  not  by  the  number 
"  of  our  days.  Never,  therefore,  esteem  men  mere- 
**  ly  on  account  of  their  riches  or  their  station.  Re- 
"  spect  goodness,  find  it  where  you  may.  Honour 
"  talent  wherever  you  behold  it  unassociated  with 
"  vice ;  but,  honour  it  most  when  accompanied  with 
"  exertion,  and  especially  when  exerted  in  the  cause 
"  of  truth  and  justice ;  and,  above  all  things,  hold  it 


n  ^ 


i\ 


268     cobbett's  advice  to  a  citizen*       [Letter  VI. 

**  in  honour,  when  it  steps  forward  to  protect  defence- 
"less  innocence  against  the  attacks  of  powerful 
"  guilt."  These  words,  addressed  to  my  own  son, 
I  now,  in  taking  my  leave,  address  to  you.  Be  just, 
be  industrious,  be  sober,  and  be  happy ;  and  the 
hope  that  these  effects  will,  in  some  degree,  have 
been  caused  by  this  little  work,  will  add  to  the  hap- 
piness  of 

Your  friend  and  humble  servant, 

WILLIAM  COBBETT. 

KenBington,  S5th  Aug.  1830. 


1    .-'il- 

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LLetter  VI. 

rotect  defencc- 
I  of  powerful 
my  own  son, 
you.  Be  just, 
ppy;  and  the 
B  degree,  have 
idd  to  the  hap- 

•vant, 
)BBETT. 


*"^ 


